


A Symphony of Intrigue

by C_apric_E



Series: Never a Dull Moment [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Delayed Shock, F/M, Fake Science, Five-Year Mission, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt Spock, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, Kirk and Spock are Best Friends, Life on the Enterprise, Murder, Music, Romance, Starfleet, Tenderness, Tense Working Relationship, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, alien music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 37,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_apric_E/pseuds/C_apric_E
Summary: "Captain's log. The Enterprise has been assigned a singular - and unusual, as far as Starfleet goes - honour. We have been invited to act as a guest judge in the Gammarami system's biennial music competition. The competition is open to all planets in the sector and we look forward to a somewhat different assignment, one that we hope will not involve any deaths."Famous last words. The Enterprise soon finds itself caught up in a very odd music competition complicated by a revenge plot. Meanwhile, the first officer is trying to handle a tense working relationship with the new xeno-musicologist - a relationship that eventually begins to head in another direction.
Relationships: Spock/Original Female Character
Series: Never a Dull Moment [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669063
Comments: 38
Kudos: 56





	1. A new arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Like everyone else here, I'm just borrowing the characters I love so much. This is unashamedly self-indulgent, quite fluffy in places, and Spock gets heroically injured twice! Hurt/comfort abounds, as well as romance, sex, murder and intrigue. There are also well-known phrases from the show and movies sprinkled throughout the story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhura is not around to do the music competition judging honours for the Enterprise, so Spock, as the other musical expert on the ship, gets the assignment. He asks for an assistant, because this is not only a new civilisation, but it's a whole new style of music. However, the working relationship starts off on a discordant note.

Captain's log:

"The Enterprise has been assigned a singular - and unusual, as far as Starfleet goes - honour. We have been invited to act as a guest judge in the Gammarami system's biennial music competition. The competition is open to all planets in the sector and we look forward to a somewhat different assignment, one that we hope will not involve any deaths - although perusing news reports about previous editions, we have heard that this has happened between rival contenders in the past. Starfleet Command has granted us a few weeks to carry out this task, for which I and the crew are grateful. It has been a stressful few months and we are overdue for some rest, as is the ship.

Our resident music expert, Lieutenant Uhura, is off-ship at the moment, taking a course at Starbase VI. We will miss her in this assignment, but First Officer Spock, also a keen musician, will make an admirable stand-in. We have requested, and been granted, a xeno-musicologist to assist Mr Spock with the technicalities of Gammaramian musical theory, about which, by his own admission, he is not as knowledgeable as he would like to be. Obviously Spock could bring himself up to speed with the greatest of ease, but Lieutenant Morris is said to be conversant with the specific styles of music in this sector, and this will take some of the pressure off Spock, who also has his science and first officer duties to perform. While he does this with aplomb, I feel it would be asking too much of him to heap the judging duties upon his shoulders alone.

Lieutenant Morris is coming aboard with the understanding that if it is to our mutual benefit, she will be taken on as a member of the permanent crew."

*** 

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," said Kirk. "We're happy to have you with us and trust that you'll enjoy your stay on the Enterprise."  
  
"Thank you, Captain," said the tall and shapely Juno Morris, shaking Kirk's hand firmly and warmly. "I'm pleased to be here."  
  
They were meeting in the captain's office, to which a yeoman had escorted Morris as soon as she had beamed aboard. Kirk always made a point of introducing himself, and his most senior officers if they were available, to new crew members as soon as possible. On this occasion the full line-up was in attendance.  
  
"This is my first officer and science officer, Commander Spock, and my chief medical officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy," Kirk said, gesturing to the tall Vulcan and spare-framed human standing next to him. "And this is Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott."  
  
The red-shirted human with the cheerful face stepped forward. "Pleased ta meet ye, Lieutenant."  
  
Morris's vivid blue eyes sparkled with pleasure as she greeted the famed engineer. "And I you, Mr Scott. I was very interested in your work with the generation of artificial plasma in waste recycling. It has such tremendous potential for use in a confined area such as a starship."  
  
"Ah, lassie," the genial Scotsman beamed. "we're goin' ta get along splendidly."  
  
Tucking a sable-coloured strand of hair behind her ear, Morris shook McCoy's hand as warmly as she had shaken Kirk's. "Doctor McCoy, I closely followed your work with xenomorphic forms of food poisoning. I'm impressed by your intuitive leap that the pathogens might be cross-contaminating local species across the gulf of space."  
  
Ever the gentleman, McCoy bowed his head in appreciation. Spock raised an eyebrow at this, and she turned to him, lifting her hand in the Vulcan salute. He was the only man in the room who was taller than she was, and their eyes, blue and brown, met on almost a level footing. "Commander Spock, it's an honour to meet you. I've read all your articles on temporal physics, especially the ones that postulate an alternate universe effect when the jump across time is too great."  
  
Spock inclined his head graciously, lifting his hand in an answering greeting. "My thanks, Lieutenant, and may I echo Captain Kirk's message of welcome?"  
  
They held each other's gaze for a mere fraction longer, but Kirk and McCoy, both well versed in Spock's ways, were immediately intrigued.

  


"I think we're gonna have to keep tabs on Spock," McCoy commented later, after alpha shift had ended and he and Kirk were relaxing in the captain's quarters over a couple of glasses of well-aged Saurian brandy. "Did you see him making eyes at the new lieutenant?"  
  
"For that brief split-second? With anyone else, you'd hardly notice," said Kirk.  
  
"But for Spock, that's making eyes."  
  
The captain took a sip of the rich amber liquid and smacked his lips. "Damn, that's good." He lifted the bottle to check how much was left. "You're saying he's interested in Morris, Bones?"  
  
"I'm saying that she's demonstrated a keen interest in and knowledge of scientific disciplines outside her own, which for Spock is surely the height of attractiveness," the doctor insisted. "Moth to a flame, and all that."  
  
Kirk shrugged. "Who knows with Spock? Let's wait and see."

  


They didn't have to wait long. A few days later in the communications lab, in an incident vaguely reminiscent of the one involving Nurse Christine Chapel and plomeek soup, Spock was seen by several members of his science department to gesture dismissively at a report presented to him by Lieutenant Morris, actually raise his voice most uncharacteristically, and say in glacial tones, "What is this?"  
  
Morris was seen by the same colleagues to flush an irritated pink, snatch the report from the Vulcan's hand, make a show of looking at the title, and say tartly, "Commander, as far as I can tell it's the report on traditional Gammarami musical culture and instruments you asked for."  
  
There was a gasp from the audience. Surely this was bordering on insolence. Mr Spock had been known to verbally slice, dice and grill people for less, and some of those present had experienced the pain of incurring his displeasure.  
  
This was the new lieutenant's first face-to-face meeting with Spock in the work environment. She clearly was unaware of his reputation for not suffering fools gladly, and nobody planned to fill her in. Not while there was a promise of rich entertainment to come. There were a few concealed smirks. Soon the bets would start, on how long she would last. And as long as the Vulcan had a fresh target for his ire, the rest could breathe easy for a while.  
  
To their disappointment, however, Spock was unfazed. As far as he was concerned, she was being completely factual. "Lieutenant, I had deduced that, thank you. I was merely wondering why it is only five pages long."  
  
"Sir, I recall that you asked for a short discourse on the musicology and instrumentation of Gammarami."  
  
His voice was deep and cutting. "Short, Lieutenant. Not minuscule."  
  
Juno's blue eyes turned into chips of ice. She'd heard that Vulcans were pedantic, but this was ridiculous. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling in mortification and anger. She tried to ignore the former and nurture the latter, because it was only anger that would get her through this embarrassing situation. Vulcan or not, this man would not get the better of her.  
  
"Perhaps if you are good enough to share with me the number of pages you were hoping for, sir, I will go back and amend my report," she said pointedly, but politely. "You sent this request in a very brief message, and omitted to specify."  
  
A pointed eyebrow rose fractionally, but Spock merely said, "You could have asked, Lieutenant." He added, "Fifteen pages will suffice."  
  
"Aye, sir." Not sure if this was a truce or a small victory, she turned on her heel, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and made a dignified but somewhat dazed exit, to the awe of the assembly.


	2. Making a mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno makes an impression on various people.

After that, Juno noticed a change in the attitude of many crew members. In the mess hall people nodded and greeted her, whereas for the past three days they had merely looked curiously at her. Several female colleagues invited themselves to her dinner table, keen to know what it felt like to go head to head with the oh so attractive but acutely indifferent Mr Spock.  
  
Juno, who had not up to now considered Spock to be in any way appealing, was forced to admit, to herself, that he was a good looking man, and he had beautiful hands, and those pointed ears were indeed spectacular, but his picky temperament was his defining characteristic as far as she was concerned. She simply couldn't say the flattering words the admirers wanted to hear.  
  
A few unsolicited invitations to card evenings or quiz nights also came her way. Juno declined them all. Even back home and at the academy she hardly mingled, preferring the familiarity of surroundings that she chose for herself. She was friendly with her roommate, Yeoman Keiko Tamura, but had no real interest in socialising with the majority of the crew. She was here to do a job, not become Miss Popularity.  
  
There were also numerous women and at least three men who were distinctly frosty towards her.  
  
Tamura was able to enlighten her as to this phenomenon. "You've got his attention, hun." Her speech was infused with an attractive Japanese accent. "They can't stand it, because men and women have been trying, and failing, to catch his eye ever since he came aboard."  
  
They were both getting ready to start their duty shifts. Juno paused in the action of pulling on her boots. "Really, Keiko? I wouldn't have thought it made any difference. He seems to be out of everyone's league anyway. I'm not a threat to anyone."  
  
Tamura laughed. "Juno, you are. Even if you don't see it." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Imagine the children you two would have - both tall, dark-haired, gorgeous. The question is, what colour would their eyes be - your blue or his brown? And would they have pointy ears or -"  
  
She broke off as Juno threw a pillow at her.  
  
"What I really want to know is how someone who has such lovely hands can be so unpleasant."  
  
The complete illogic of the statement didn't faze the other woman. "You noticed his hands too?"  
  
"How could I not?"  
  
Tamura sighed. "One of the favourite topics amongst us Spock admirers is to imagine all the things those hands could do in bed..." She trailed off, distracted.  
  
Juno just shook her head and stood, smoothing her command yellow dress over her hips. She hoped this wouldn't turn out to be one of those assignments.

  


Captain Kirk also had a few words of wisdom for her. In their first one-on-one meeting he'd made it clear that although she was in his command division, she reported to Spock.  
  
A charismatic leader, he was so completely opposite to the Vulcan in all ways that Juno wondered how they managed to earn the reputation of being the best command team in Starfleet. Kirk was friendly and approachable, forthcoming and helpful, while Spock was - not.  
  
"Spock will supervise all your work on this project, Lieutenant. I appreciate that you're more clued up on the theoretical parts of the music." He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his neck. "Our Mr Spock may be the smartest person on board, but even he needs assistance now and then. I'm expecting some good work from you, and remember there's quite a bit riding on this project. If all goes well we might be able to persuade the Gammaramians to join the Federation."  
  
Juno's stomach sank a little. "No pressure then, Captain?"  
  
He smiled, a persuasive, friendly smile that lit up his face and eyes. "None at all, Lieutenant. I have full confidence in you. Please also be advised that I would be very interested in offering you a permanent position on the Enterprise. We could use your skills, especially if this kind of project is likely to crop up again. Obviously the offer is subject to a good performance review, etcetera, etcetera."  
  
"I appreciate the support, sir. I will do my utmost to ensure that the project's a great success."  
  
"Good. Also keep in mind that it might be difficult at first getting used to working with a Vulcan, if you never have. Spock can be quite a handful - but my door is always open if you need assistance."  
  
Careful not to read more into the captain's words than the literal meaning, Juno returned the smile. "Thank you, sir."  
  
"Dismissed."

  


Spock, meanwhile, was not given to mulling over encounters with his staff or other junior officers. Once what was said had been said, it was illogical to revisit the scene in one's mind. Nothing could alter what had transpired. It was therefore fruitless to dwell on events.  
  
But despite this resolution, Spock found himself replaying his first exchange with Lieutenant Juno Morris. He knew he could be intimidating to junior crewmembers, especially human ones. It was not unheard of for subordinates to dissolve into quivering puddles of terror at the slightest sign of his disapproval. However, Spock was nothing if not objective, and those who found themselves in his line of fire were there for a good reason.  
  
So it was not an everyday experience for him to get spirited push-back. He thought about it for some time. Naturally, someone willing to stand up for themselves in a fair exchange was to be commended. And on the other hand, she had not become emotional, and had managed to remain polite, if only just.  
  
He was the first to admit that he was not always the best judge of human character; if problems persisted he would chat to the captain about it.  
  
And it was true that he had not had the opportunity to meet and brief her in person. That had indeed been remiss of him. So he trusted that, having got off to an uneasy start, their working relationship would adjust favourably. With Starfleet endorsing their participation in this unusual event, it was obviously to their advantage to work well together.


	3. Not music to the ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno stands up for herself. Gammarami music is horrible.

But it was just three days later that Kirk, hurrying down the corridor to where a group of crew members were gathered, heard the sound of raised voices coming from Spock's office in the science complex.  
  
"As you were!" he growled. The crew scattered, and Kirk went in.  
  
Apart from a couple of tense moments and glares a-plenty, Spock and Juno had managed to work amicably enough. But now the two faced each other across Spock's desk. As always, the thermostat was turned up to a Vulcan level of comfort. Still, the atmosphere in the room was glacial.  
  
There was another problem. A dreadful screeching sound was coming from a speaker on the desk. The speaker was vibrating visibly and crawling slowly towards the edge, driven by the sound waves that tore through it. It reminded Kirk of a stiff, hairless tribble, the way it inched its way along.  
  
"Spock, there's something wrong with your sound system," Kirk pointed out.  
  
"Not at all, Captain. That is a popular Gammarami funeral dirge that you're listening to," Spock said, casting a derisive glare at Juno.  
  
How could this be in any way popular? Kirk rubbed his ears. Perhaps there was something wrong with them. He felt that if he had to listen much longer to it, it might become his funeral dirge.  
  
"Mr Spock, that is not the funeral dirge," Juno insisted, pointing at the speaker. "I'm telling you that it's a wedding song - sir," she finished, scowling at the Vulcan.  
  
"Lieutenant, can you not hear the key of the second verse? It has clearly shifted half an octave, which means that - "  
  
Verse? There were verses? It sounded like a lot of cats had been collected in a net and were being lowered into hot water, centimetre by centimetre. Kirk shook his head and tried to banish the image from his mind. He opened his mouth to comment, too late.  
  
"Sir, the notation makes it very clear. Only Gammarami wedding tunes utilise that particular sequence."  
  
Spock's eyes narrowed dangerously. Ordinarily a warm brown, they were now coal black and piercing. Kirk knew that look, and he began to feel sorry for Morris. "I must disagree with you, Lieutenant. Please endeavour to apply your mind."  
  
Suddenly a new sound was heard, like the knocking of a woodpecker on the trunk of a tree. The speaker jumped forward a few centimetres, wobbling desperately. They all looked at it.  
  
"There! The marriage drum, you can hear it clearly, Mr Spock. I can't imagine why you insist on being so obtuse. I thought you knew enough about Gammarami music by now to be able to discern the thematic characteristics."  
  
They were calling this music? It was horrible.  
  
"Lieutenant, there can be no doubt that that is the ritual farewell tattoo, whereby the mourners will strike a fur-covered clay pot a requisite number of times. It would appear to be the Gammarami equivalent of the old-fashioned 21-gun salute," Spock said obstinately. "It is patently obvious."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't identify that sound as a clay pot being struck, sir. On the other hand, it sounds very like your typical carved wood hollow log, which is used extensively for joyful occasions."  
  
"Lieutenant, kindly do not waste my time with suppositions." The deep voice that could wrap around a person like a warm woolly blanket now dripped with ice.  
  
Juno thumped her fist on the desk, and the speaker gave up the fight and toppled to the floor, where it lay on its side, turning in a mournful circle, going nowhere. "Suppositions! Commander Spock, with respect, who is the musicologist here?"  
  
The debate was getting heated and Kirk took that as a sign to leave. His first officer could handle anything thrown at him and would not hesitate to rebuke the thrower if he felt it necessary. For that matter, Morris was clearly giving as good as she got. In any case, they had scarcely noticed his presence, and he also had the curious feeling that they were testing each other and quite enjoying it, the way their eyes carried a lively, if deadly gleam.  
  
Back to the bridge, then. He shook his head and went out, causing the new group of crewmembers that had clustered outside to quickly disperse.


	4. Matters are in motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and Spock discuss work matters over dinner, while Juno broods.

Juno Morris entered the observation lounge and made her way through the dimly lit space towards the main window. It was late in the ship's night, but she was restless and in any case, tomorrow she was on beta shift. Opting to go where her feet decided to take her, she had ended up here and thought it was as good a place as any to spend some time in contemplation. The earlier argument with Spock had drained her. It had not ended well, with Spock eventually suggesting that she learn - learn! - to regulate the secretion of stress hormones into her body. The man was just infuriating, so superior and arrogant!  
  
Strange, though - there had been a definite thrill to it, like crossing swords with a worthy but dangerous opponent.  
  
When she'd discussed the incident with Tamura, her roommate told her that it was the talk of the junior crew.  
  
"Oh God, Keiko, really?" She threw her t-shirt over her head. "I can never go out in public again."  
  
Tamura laughed. "Don't be silly, Juno! People are enthralled. It's like a particularly good comedy drama holo-series. And I've never been so popular!"

  


Kirk, meanwhile, had also broached the subject with Spock over dinner.  
  
"What's going on with you and Morris, Spock? Two altercations in four days?"  
  
The captain was on a diet, on McCoy's orders. He looked with distaste at the boiled vegetables and fish that the food synthesiser had spat out. Spock was tucking in, with some relish, to a vegetarian soup which looked much more appetising. Kirk sighed and nibbled on a green bean.  
  
Spock had come to a conclusion. "I believe it is nothing more than the meeting of two stubborn minds. You have described me as such before, and I have not disagreed. I am, however, still at a loss to explain why she, to use one of your phrases, gets under my thick hide."  
  
Kirk grimaced at the memory of Omicron Ceti III and the humiliating insults he'd had to hurl at his loyal first officer to break the influence of those damn spores. "You don't like her?"  
  
"That is neither here nor there, Jim. I do not have to like a person to be able to work with them."  
  
"She's not as good as we thought she would be?"  
  
"On the contrary, she is most knowledgeable in her field. I took the opportunity to read three of her journal submissions, and I found them most illuminating."  
  
"So it's just a personality thing, then."  
  
"Regrettably, I believe that is the case, but it is manageable and will not compromise the project."  
  
Kirk took a sip of his juice, reassured that Spock had the situation under control.  
  
"How about a game of chess to clear your mind before turning in?"  
  
Spock folded his napkin neatly and placed it on his tray. "I will take a walk to the observation lounge, Jim. A period of reflection in front of the stars will be beneficial."  
  
Kirk nodded. He knew his Vulcan friend coped with difficulties and stress by meditating, and also that he liked to sit and watch the stellar panorama unfold as the ship cruised through space. Like him, Spock loved the stars, not only to study but also to look at. Combining both activities was a new form of remedy that Spock had learned early on in the mission, and had proved extremely effective for him.


	5. A not-so-chance encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could this be the start of a truce between Spock and Juno?

The view from the observation windows was spectacular. Juno wondered why the place wasn't crammed with people all the time, but then thought that for most enlisted crew, after a while the novelty would wear off. She determined there and then that it would never wear off for her.  
  
Against a backdrop of inky blackness, nebulae and solar systems whirled by. Stars, some almost invisible, others radiant gems hanging in the void, were visible in an abundance that she had not seen before. And far from being merely black and white, there were such purples, greens, reds and yellows out there as to put an artist's palette to shame.  
  
She was dressed casually in a comfortable tunic and leggings, hair hanging in a thick brunette braid down her back. Drawing her legs up under her as she settled into a padded bench in front of the vast window, she reflected on her experiences of the past week. Spock was a tough customer, satisfied with nothing less than the best effort, but she had to admit that it was exhilarating working with him. He constantly challenged her to do better and there was nothing inherently wrong with that. But he was incredibly stubborn; once an opinion had been formed, he stuck to it like an Aldebaran shellmouth to a rock.  
  
The soft sound of the door whooshing open and closed roused her from her reverie. She looked towards the entrance but was unable to make out anything beyond a backlit form moving quietly towards her - a form that seemed familiar.  
  
Tall, lean, lithe, Spock moved into range of one of the soft downlighters and she had to look twice to make sure it was really him.  
  
He, too, was dressed in off-duty garb. A black hooded sweatshirt with science division insignia clothed his lean frame, complemented by fitted grey Starfleet-issue sweatpants with a black stripe down each side. His hands were buried in the hoodie's spacious front pocket. On his feet were simple slip-on shoes. He looked different - not quite as threatening. And rather attractive. Black looked very good on him.  
  
He hesitated when he saw her, but, committed to his course of action, he did not turn and go back.  
  
"Commander -" Juno started to get up. Was he going to continue where they had left off earlier that day?  
  
Spock waved a hand. "As you were, Lieutenant. Please resume your comfortable posture, we are off duty now."  
  
She subsided warily.  
  
"May I join you?"  
  
Juno was at a loss for words. In response she gestured to the bench and gave a small, nervous smile. Spock sat on the other end and arranged his lanky frame into a far less formal position than she had ever seen him assume. A long leg stretched out in front of him, the foot resting on the heel. The other leg was pulled up to his chest and his fingers, laced together, held it there. She was drawn, as always, to his graceful hands, the immaculate nails, the long straight fingers that looked as though they should be caressing a concert piano keyboard or holding an artist's brush. Knowing Spock, he had probably long since mastered those skills.  
  
Tonight he looked less like the standoffish first officer and more like a man simply settling down for an evening of unhurried leisure. He was at ease with himself, poised and appealing. This was a different Vulcan to the one who terrorised her thoughts and kept her on her toes during her duty shifts. Obviously there was much about him she simply didn't know.  
  
"Are you also finding it hard to sleep, sir?" Juno ventured cautiously.  
  
Spock turned his head to look fully at her. The angle of the light prevented her from making out all of his individual features. His eyes were shrouded in enigmatic triangles of shadow beneath his upswept brows and his cheekbones were sharply defined. The soft light reflected in a purple band off his glossy hair and highlighted the elegant points of his ears. It struck her again that being so damned unpleasant didn't alter the fact that he really was good to look at.  
  
His mouth twitched upwards a fraction on one side. "As I stated earlier, we're off duty. I request that you call me by my name, and if you permit, I will do likewise. I trust that we will be able to put aside our differences for the moment."  
  
"Well, yes, that's fine … Spock." She felt awkward acceding to his request.  
  
The Vulcan nodded, then looked out at the celestial panorama ever unfolding before them and addressed her question to him as if nothing had been said in between. "Not specifically, Juno. Vulcans can get by on less sleep than humans require. I do, however, occasionally like to spend time here when the ship is quiet. I find that contemplating the stars augments my meditation practice."  
  
His shoulders lifted and fell as he took a deep breath, and he rested his chin on his bent knee, his eyes fixed on the starlight. For an instant he looked like a lost little boy. "Sometimes I can see my home planet."  
  
Juno wasn't sure how to respond to that almost wistful statement. For that matter, she still couldn't fathom why he was talking to her at all.  
  
"I beg your pardon," he said at length. "It is a simple matter for me to compartmentalise work and leisure, colleagues and friends, but humans do not have that facility."  
  
That was true.  
  
He continued, turning now to look at her. "Juno, my intentions during our verbal exchanges are not to belittle you, because I know from your record, and from my limited experience working with you, that you are competent and skilled. I urge you to believe this." The sleek Vulcan head dipped and he ran his fingers across the fabric of the bench. "But I don't have the tactful way with words that Captain Kirk and, to a lesser extent, Doctor McCoy do. Indeed, were the doctor here he would no doubt berate me for my perceived lack of feelings."  
  
Juno was warmed by his honest admission of his own flaws. She dared to match his candidness. "My perception, Spock, is that you don't lack feelings at all, but they're deep, and guarded." Still looking down, he nodded thoughtfully, concurring. Throwing a flaw of her own into the mix, she added, "I accept that I, too, don't always handle disagreements well. I tend to speak before I think. This is something that I know I should work on."  
  
"Have you tried meditation?"  
  
"No."  
  
"If you are interested, I will be pleased to share some basic techniques with you."  
  
"Thank you, Spock."  
  
They looked at each other, then the Vulcan inclined his head, stood, and excused himself.


	6. Misgivings about the mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk has doubts, but Spock is keen.

"So as you see, gentlemen, music is an integral part of Gammaramian culture - not only for enjoyment but even more so, as a form of competition, almost like a sport."  
  
Spock sent the next diagram to the screen, while Juno continued with the pre-competition briefing the two had prepared for the senior officers. "It bestows prestige on those who perform it well and, as you will have noted, the music itself is complex and hard to comprehend, even for the locals. Therefore those who excel are lauded and respected."  
  
Doctor McCoy muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Is that what they call music?"  
  
McCoy had been expecting a quaint, folksy dose of Gammarami culture. Instead, he had almost convulsed as hideous sounds poured out of the speaker, reminding him of the squealing of the pigs on his family farm back in Georgia, when it was dipping time.  
  
"Sounds a bit like me auntie playin' the bagpipes, after a few glasses o' Scotch," Chief Engineer Scott volunteered.  
  
"Really, Doctor," Spock said testily, including Scott in his withering glance, "not all forms of music are as bland as those originating from Earth."  
  
McCoy bristled. "Bland, Spock? Have you ever listened to an ancient musical group called Queen?"  
  
"Since you recommend it, Doctor, I shall certainly avoid it."  
  
Kirk caught Juno's eye and shrugged, as if to say 'don't mind them', and Scott shook his head in amusement, while Spock and McCoy continued to trade barbs about each other's planetary music styles.  
  
"Gentlemen." the captain rose and leaned on the table with both hands. "We can discuss the merits of the Vulcan national quintet versus Queen at a later stage, preferably over some Saurian brandy. For the moment, can we confine ourselves to the topic at hand?"  
  
The briefing was interrupted just then by the whistle of the intercom. "Bridge to captain."  
  
"Kirk here. What is it, Crowthorne?"  
  
"Captain, I have just received a message from Gammarami," the substitute communications officer's sultry tones relayed, "that there is some controversy with the judging portion of the competition. Apparently a person named Smoil was this morning dismissed from the judging panel because it was discovered that he has a conflict of interest. One of the entrants is a family member, a fact that he didn't disclose, and because of this he was asked to step down. Smoil has now vowed retribution on the judge who exposed him."  
  
"What does this have to do with us, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Sir, the organising committee is advising that we should be prepared for possible disruption of the competition, including attempts to harm other members of the judging panel. They express apologies for this situation."  
  
Spock lifted a slender eyebrow and looked at Kirk. The two exchanged a meaningful glance.  
  
"Have they named the judge in danger?"  
  
"The only information we have is that it's someone called Zephany," Crowthorne replied.  
  
"Noted, Lieutenant. Please convey our understanding and acceptance to the committee." He snapped off the connection.  
  
"It may be fortuitous that the Enterprise will be in attendance. We can assist with containing any disturbances."  
  
Kirk rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Yes, but I don't want to needlessly put any member of this crew in danger, Spock, especially in a conflict that has nothing to do with us."  
  
"Captain, we can be ready ta warp out o' there within minutes," Scott interjected. "When ye give the word, sir, I'll be ready."  
  
The Vulcan looked pensive for a moment, elbows on armrests, eyes narrowed in thought, fingers interlocked with just the index fingers pointing up. Juno noted that his eyelashes were long and slightly curved, and cast a shadow on his cheeks. Then she pinched her own arm at the tender part inside her elbow, willing herself to snap out of it. She had to stop finding things to like about Spock; that would make working with him far more difficult.  
  
"Captain, we are committed to this project, as is Starfleet," he said. "I submit therefore that it does indeed have much relevance for us."  
  
"I know, Spock, you're right," Kirk sighed, "I was hoping that we could somehow get out of it."  
  
Now both Vulcan eyebrows flew up. "Get out of it? Jim, this is an unprecedented opportunity to scientifically study the musical culture of an unknown civilisation. That is absolutely in line with our core mission." He threw Kirk a disapproving stare.  
  
As always, the logic of the situation, once Spock had explained it, was inescapable. Kirk reflected, not for the first time, how Spock embodied both the curiosity of the scientist and the courage of the explorer so perfectly and completely.  
  
He smiled affectionately at his first officer. "Thank you, Mr Spock. I rely on you in times like this to present the logical way forward."  
  
Spock inclined his head a fraction. "My pleasure, Captain."  
  
They exchanged another look, one that carried an entire conversation inside it, and Juno had the feeling they had come to an understanding without having said a word. So this was the legendary command team in action; she was impressed. Their rapport and easy trust in each other was unmistakable.  
  
She found the relationship between Spock and McCoy more interesting. Clearly there was friction, but on both sides it seemed to be tempered with an amused regard for the other, and a deep respect which was well concealed under the taunts and insults with which their conversations were liberally sprinkled. It was not nearly as obvious, but there was rapport of a kind.  
  
Rapport between her and Spock seemed to be as unstable as a pulsating variable star. They would manage to work together quite civilly for a time, and then something would set her or the Vulcan off and there would be a flare-up. It was just the frequency and the amplitude of the pulsation that varied, but it would come, sure enough.


	7. Companionable silences and comfortable chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno are nice to each other.

For the moment, it seemed, pulsations were at a nadir.  
  
Since their initial encounter in the observation lounge Juno had kept Spock company there a number of times. When he wasn't busy with official or private activities or playing chess with Kirk, the Vulcan would wander down to the lounge and if he found her there, he didn't turn away but came to sit with her.  
  
The crew, prepared for and almost salivating at the thought of another Spock/Morris altercation, had been waiting for many days. The two antagonists had apparently found little to fight about and there were more than a few disappointed faces around.  
  
They had an informal routine - Juno would nestle her curvaceous body into the corner of their preferred L-shaped couch, while Spock would occupy the end closest to the door, ready for a quick getaway in case of emergency. They were not so close as to intrude on each other's personal space, but not so far that they didn't feel like they were company for each other.  
  
Spock appreciated the fact that Juno didn't always have to be chatting about something. In his experience, far too many humans believed that their opinions were of interest to others and they would share them regardless.  
  
Both being of a reserved nature, companionable silences were not awkward for either of them and in fact, were mutually viewed as a sign of respect for the other person.  
  
Between the silences, however, they shared comfortable chats on various subjects, mostly scientific, although Juno knew she had yet to engage Spock in robust debate on any contentious matter. He seemed to save that for the work space, preferring lighter topics of discussion while off duty, perhaps because his days tended to be filled with just the opposite.  
  
It didn't take long before his presence became less intimidating and more welcome, and she found she was starting to really like him. It seemed that the Vulcan too was growing accustomed to their quiet meetings, as he was regularly to be found in the observation lounge of an evening.  
  
Things carried on pleasantly for a week or two and if their public spats had diminished - to the disappointment of their colleagues - everyone put it down to them finally learning to work together.  
  
One evening Juno was sitting in her favourite corner, absent-mindedly fiddling with her hair, her pretty features pensive, thinking of her upcoming performance appraisal. The midpoint of her probation period on the ship was approaching and she knew that if the appraisal went well she would be offered a permanent position. Kirk had said as much during that first meeting.  
  
The trouble was that she was in two minds as to whether she wanted to stay. Chewing on the corner of her thumbnail, she reflected that Spock was part of the reason - she was afraid of what would happen if they had an argument from which there could be no going back, for she was beginning to like him too much to want to risk damaging the budding friendship.  
  
When Spock sat down he immediately knew something was troubling her, and was 82% certain as to the cause.  
  
"Your performance appraisal?" he said.  
  
She turned mournful blue eyes in his direction. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
"No, but as first officer, I am privy to all staff-related matters and I know that the midway appraisal of your secondment is coming up."  
  
"I can't decide if I want it to go well or not."  
  
"That is illogical," Spock intoned. "If you mean that you do not know whether you would like to stay on the ship or not and are saying that you want the decision taken out of your hands, leaving here with a poor performance review will not help your career going forward."  
  
His perceptiveness startled her. "I know - but I have reasons."  
  
"Would you care to share them?"  
  
"I - don't think so. Not at this point."  
  
Spock thought he had an idea of what those reasons could be. If so, he had similar concerns. His preference would be for her to stay, as a colleague and as a friend, but if they were not to damage or worse, destroy their friendship they would need to figure out why they got into frequent arguments.  
  
"You're going to do my appraisal, right?" she asked.  
  
"I should, since I am your supervisor. I plan to recuse myself, not because I would fail to be impartial, but because it is the ethical thing to do. If it is later discovered that we had a friendship outside of our duties it could result in the appraisal being called into question."  
  
Juno looked confused. "But surely nobody could accuse a Vulcan of bias?"  
  
Spock nodded soberly. "Agreed, but I would rather not take the chance. I will brief the captain and give him supporting documentation, and he will be well equipped to accurately appraise your performance. I have confidence that the outcome will be favourable."  
  
"I wish I had your confidence," she sighed.  
  
"Juno," he said, shifting a little closer to her, "you are a valuable officer and an asset to the Enterprise. I know that you are intelligent and honest and brave, if often impulsive - indeed, not unlike the captain. Working relationships aside, you carry out your duties admirably and you are as knowledgeable a colleague as I had hoped for." His eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. "I have been monitoring."  
  
Spock, who never made a statement unless he was sure of his information, was encouraging her to believe in herself. Who said that Vulcans couldn't be thoughtful or sensitive (once you got to know them)? Best they eat their words. Tears welled up in her eyes. Thinking he had upset her, Spock quickly moved in to sit beside her. "I regret causing you any anxiety."  
  
"Oh, no, Spock. I was just - so touched by your encouragement and kind words." She sniffed and continued, "Humans sometimes get into an emotional state of mind caused by kindness, rather than the opposite. I think we're just overwhelmed by hearing something nice said about us, in a moment of self-doubt."  
  
Spock pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I believe I understand. Juno -" he said in dismay, seeing fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Come, please be at ease."  
  
And he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.


	8. So near and yet so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock gets cuddly with Juno.

Juno's head spun but once she got over the initial shock of feeling his firm shoulder under her head, she realised the enormity of his gesture. This charming, sincere Vulcan, who so highly prized his personal space, had given it up to try to make her feel better. It was a moment of significance.  
  
But being at ease, as he suggested, was a little difficult in this highly unexpected situation.  
  
Spock, meanwhile, was trying to determine the motivation for his actions of the last few moments. Certainly they had not been premeditated, but neither, he deduced, were they uncomfortable for him. Just the opposite, rather - with his mental shields firmly in place to filter out any overt emotionalism from Juno, he found that it was agreeable to sit here holding her close to him.  
  
So agreeable, in fact, that he was moved to turn his head and casually drop a light kiss on her forehead. This spontaneity prompted another internal round of analysis. Within one point three five minutes he reached the conclusion that while his motivation was initially to offer support to a friend, it was fast evolving into a desire to maintain the physical contact and the accompanying pleasurable sensations. He would just have to remain alert for anyone entering the lounge.  
  
Juno almost froze at the touch of his breath on her skin, but caught herself in time. The last thing she wanted was to stiffen like a puppet, make him think he'd done something wrong, and send him scuttling to the end of the sofa again. So she nestled closer into the angle of his shoulder, casually taking a handful of his hoodie for courage, and breathed in the warm, clean, spicy scent of him. She felt his cheek come to rest against the crown of her head and his free hand took a lock of her sable hair and played with it.  
  
Whoa! She had been prepared to accept that this was his way of merely supporting a friend, but Spock was getting cuddly.  
  
For some minutes that was the status quo, until Juno deduced that there seemed to be rules to this engagement, and the initiative had rotated back to her. Spock was patiently twirling her hair around his fingers, apparently waiting for the next move. Was it a Vulcan thing? She tested her theory by running soft, inquiring fingers down his neck. One of her fingernails accidentally grazed his skin, eliciting a subdued grunt from him. Now she did freeze for a moment, but Spock was not yet sprinting for the door. It must be all right.  
  
So the game was on. What would he do now?  
  
Spock, too, was increasingly intrigued, and entertained. After all, the Vulcan never lived who shied away from a challenge. He made her wait a good two point two minutes, then he raised the stakes significantly. Before Juno knew it, her hand was under his hoodie, resting directly on the hot bare skin of his lower right chest, directly over where the Vulcan heart would reside.  
  
And yes, there she felt it racing under her hand, much faster than a human heart but it was unclear if this was his normal pulse rate. Spock answered that question himself as he placed his hand over hers. "My heart is beating 28.4% faster than normal," he explained scientifically. "I attribute it to your proximity."  
  
"Is that good or bad?' she asked tentatively, knowing that either way, this was even more significant than the hug. Spock was a gifted touch telepath who generally avoided skin-to-skin contact with others - but now he had deliberately initiated contact. He must be shielding like mad, she realised.  
  
"It's good," he said, retrieving her hand and kissing the palm with a grace that, she knew, came not from frequent kissing of ladies' hands but was rather a factor of his innate personal elegance. "I value any opportunity to broaden my social skills, such as they are. This, I believe, is my first opportunity to experience this evolution of simple comradeship into physical closeness with a female, or male for that matter, and I am most satisfied thus far."  
  
One minute they were ready to strangle each other, now he was talking of physical closeness. Juno felt giddy. Who ever said Vulcans were predictable and boring?  
  
This particular, sweet Vulcan was now holding her hand against his chest, rubbing his thumb solicitously across her wrist. His other arm was still wrapped around her shoulder. It seemed to be her move. She slipped her hand out of his grasp, feeling him tense in anticipation of the next phase.  
  
Skin. His. She wanted more of it. Under the hoodie went the hand and this time it stayed in the region of his stomach. His muscles tightened as her nails scraped slowly along the waistband of his sweatpants. He arched forward slightly and she heard a soft "Aah" escape from him.  
  
Was this real?  
  
If not, then her mind was doing a splendid job of imagining his fingers wandering up her neck, beginning to lift her chin, as his head dipped and his mouth homed in on hers.  
  
It was at that point that Spock's communicator beeped. Duty called, and he answered, in a slightly strained tone. "Spock here."  
  
"Spock," said the captain's voice, "where are you?"  
  
"I am in the observation lounge, Jim. Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, no, I was just thinking that we should start going over those revised staff rotation schedules."  
  
"Aye, captain. I will be with you shortly."  
  
Spock sighed and closed the little device. "I should go," he said with regret. "The captain's duties don't always allow him the most convenient of meeting times."  
  
He touched the back of her hand, and was gone.


	9. Exactly what she was afraid of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another argument ensues, and Juno is sent to her room.

The next day Spock was back to his fussy work self. Juno could discern no noticeable change in his demeanour, but she didn't expect to. Severe and professional to the best of his ability during working hours, Spock was never distracted by personal issues, unless they were gravely important.  
  
It did seem that he took longer than usual to find something to berate her over. And she did think he raised his eyebrow quite a bit when he looked at her, but then they disagreed on the details of a musical instrument and during the ensuing argument those needle-like brows were pulled together in a frown over the bridge of his nose and there was no hint of warmth in either his body or verbal language.  
  
Juno felt like she was living in two alternate universes, one for the day and one for the night. If she wasn't sure she'd been with friendly Spock last night she'd never have believed him capable of even being polite.  
  
But their colleagues were thrilled. This was what they had patiently waited for.  
  
"Lieutenant, surely you are not trying to convince me that the musician is using an eight-stringed instrument? I can only hear six strings."  
  
Juno allowed the hideous trilling to continue for a moment before she responded. "Mr Spock, please listen carefully. You can hear the drone strings resonating behind the melody."  
  
"Drone?"  
  
The word dripped from Spock's mouth like acid. His eyes lifted to the ceiling in a look of exasperation that was horribly familiar to many present. His lips thinned in displeasure. There was a collective intake of breath. Soon the fireworks would begin.  
  
"That is another instrument altogether, and I fail to understand your insistence on clinging to this one-sided view." Even as he said the words Spock knew they applied to him as well. He was acting uncharacteristically. Why, when there was a difference in opinion, was his reaction to vehemently continue to disagree without interrogating Juno's view? He had not yet established that reason.  
  
"They are sympathetic strings of the primary instrument, Mr Spock. There is no doubt. Unfortunately we have no specifications on Gammaramian musical instruments yet so we are unable to confirm my theory." Her voice was tight.  
  
"And that is all it is, Lieutenant. Your theory."  
  
Counting to 10 didn't seem to work, so she counted to 20. It didn't work either. The condescending look on his face cut into her, and remembering how gentle he had been last night, she finally lost her temper. She had maintained respect for his rank and his intellect all through these clashes, but this was the last straw.  
  
Her hand slapped down on the work surface. "Commander Spock!"  
  
Immediately looks were exchanged among the crew, who had been betting to see which of them would blow up first. Unfortunately for Juno, the odds had been firmly in her favour.  
  
It was fine for him to be able to separate work and leisure so easily; in that respect Vulcans did indeed have the advantage. Well, she would pull no punches either.  
  
"I was seconded here because I am a qualified xeno-musicologist. You are undoubtedly a gifted musician, but you are no trained expert. I refuse to have you constantly undermining me!"  
  
People cringed, and a few ducked involuntarily. The combatants had declared open war.  
  
The Vulcan's expression turned stony. His hands stiffened on the data tablet he was holding, causing the casing to creak, and Juno actually saw anger surge up into his face before he ruthlessly pushed it down again. She didn't know that the anger was directed as much towards himself as her.  
  
With a lethal gleam in his eye, Spock cut short the exchange. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant. Kindly return to your quarters and report for duty only when you are able to bring a rational argument to the discussion."  
  
Juno lifted her chin defiantly, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and walked without hurrying to the door. She handled the humiliation with a brave attitude, and without tears. This won her admiration from many present, including the one who had dealt the final blow.


	10. Turning the corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno make up - and how...

That evening, sitting gloomily by herself in the observation lounge, nursing a mug of green tea and mint, Juno almost hoped Spock wouldn't come. She didn't think he would. But no, there he was, padding softly along the deck towards her. After a slightly awkward greeting he seated himself on the end of the couch as usual. There was a frosty silence for some minutes, until Spock's acute hearing picked up the minutest of sighs. He ignored it, but being in his soul a deeply kind-hearted man, could not ignore the next one, which quavered sadly.  
  
Quickly he moved over to where Juno, curled up on the couch, was pretending everything was just dandy.  
  
"Please accompany me. I wish to talk to you, but not here."  
  
If it wasn't for the gruff softness of his voice, Juno would have told him to get lost in a Jefferies tube. But Spock had pitched his tone carefully to convey only good intentions.  
  
"Where are we going?  
  
"There is a briefing room down the hall. I will engage the 'occupied' signal and we will not be disturbed."

  


It was a tense, but controlled exchange - at first.  
  
"I did not deliberately mean to upset you, Juno. I, too, am yet to determine why I allow myself to get into arguments with you in the first place." Spock rose and paced along the wall a few times, arms clasped behind his back.  
  
"I had wondered that myself."  
  
Eventually he stopped pacing and hovered near the far wall, folding his arms contemplatively. "It is very unbecoming for a Vulcan, and I concede that I played a role in this afternoon's incident. As the senior officer I should set the example and simply withdraw from such conversations until an unemotional exchange is possible."  
  
He heard her chuckle. "Admit it, Spock, you enjoy it. A Vulcan rarely backs away from a chance to prove themselves right. Even if they're wrong."  
  
Well, that was promising; at least she was engaging. And possibly she was not incorrect.  
  
"I will admit no such thing. But it bothers me to see you distressed."  
  
For a long moment silence hung in the air.  
  
"What do you suggest?" Juno asked.  
  
"We need to resolve these illogical disagreements. If, as I suspect, they are influencing whether or not you stay on the Enterprise, we definitely need to resolve them, because I -" He looked at his feet. "I wish you to stay."  
  
"Spock..."  
  
He held up a hand, silencing her. "I have searched within myself for the reasons we cannot seem to have a smooth working relationship. I am no psychologist, however, and especially not when it comes to human motivations. In the Vulcan case I am at a loss also."  
  
"I might be able to shed some light. Did you know that people who are very rational tend to argue more?"  
  
She expected him to say something disparaging along the lines of that theory only accounting for one of them, but he didn't. He waited for her to continue, his angular Vulcan features solemn.  
  
"It has to do with using reason as a weapon with which to persuade. There have been studies."  
  
"Interesting." He thought for a while, then nodded. "I will have to do some research on this matter, but I believe your idea has merit."  
  
Then Juno willingly admitted her part in the saga. "For myself, I think I wanted to prove myself to you and hold my own against you. I took it a bit too far. You have an immense reputation and I'm just a humble lieutenant who -"  
  
Spock held up a hand. "You are a valued colleague, Juno. Do not denigrate yourself. I could not have asked for a more knowledgeable person with whom to work on this project."  
  
Their eyes locked, and then like a page being flipped, the mood turned. They both felt it; a sense of expectation, like waiting for the crackling electricity and booming thunder of a storm about to break.  
  
"And we have unfinished business." His voice was deliciously deep, husky with suggestion that set her nerve endings tingling. This suddenly assertive Spock without the pomposity was wildly attractive. Her cheeks flushed a vivid pink, and she knew he saw it.  
  
"What are you going to do about it?" she challenged, a little nervously.  
  
Hunter-like, he began to walk slowly around the table, trailing his fingers along the edge. His eyes were locked on hers. "I am going to stop playing games." He came closer. "I am going to continue where we left off last night." He was just a few steps from her now. "I am going to do what a Vulcan does when he is with somebody he desires very much."  
  
"And that is?" Her voice was little more than a croak.  
  
Spock bent over her chair from behind. One hand came to rest at the base of her throat and slid slowly up her neck, lifting her face to his. Heat radiated from his skin. "I am going to claim her," he purred, and kissed her in his decisive Spock way.  
  
For a man who professed to have had few such liaisons, he showed remarkable finesse, but she would have expected nothing less from Spock, who was accomplished at so many things. At first he just brushed her lips with his, then again with more pressure. A light bite on her lower lip, and the little gasp was unavoidable. Taking quick advantage, he ran his tongue very carefully between her slightly open lips, until she yielded to him. He swept his tongue around hers, savouring the minty aftertaste of her tea and a tangy flavour that could only be natural.  
  
His touch was like a hot wind blowing across her skin. It wasn't enough - she wanted her hands on his body too.  
  
Spock sensed her need through their contact. Almost immediately she found herself on her feet and surrounded by strong Vulcan arms holding her not tightly, but still very firmly. It was exhilarating to know that his great physical power was under such tight control, yet ready at his command.  
  
She slipped her hands under his hoodie and ran them over his chest, using her nails lightly on his nipples, causing him to flinch. Their mouths met again in an eager kiss and when they pulled apart it was a transformed Spock who held her gaze. His expression was tender and alive. His eyes blazed with passion, his mouth was soft and full.  
  
He nibbled his way from the top of her ear down to the lobe, from which wafted a fragrance of patchouli and something lemony. A most pleasing sensory combination, he thought, sucking on the plump flesh. A little moan escaped her, and he felt a shiver travel all the way down her spine.  
  
Pulling her hips to his, he introduced her to a part of his anatomy that was rapidly filling with blood, thickening and lengthening with every heartbeat. With her height almost that of his, their sexes were perfectly aligned. In no time Spock was absorbed with the exquisite friction of grinding himself against her, and soon they were both moaning and gasping.  
  
Her hands were pressed to his back. His cock made sudden hard contact with the swelling bud of her clitoris, and with a yelp she involuntarily clenched her hands and dug her nails into his muscles. The sharp, delicious physical pain and the spike of heightened arousal that slammed into Spock forced a groan out of him and took him perilously close to an orgasm that was suppressed, with difficulty.  
  
He sucked in a breath, brought her hands out and held them to his chest. His own hands were shaking.  
  
"I deduce that we are approaching a point where we will become oblivious to our surroundings." His voice was hoarse with the effort of controlling. "I am hesitant to continue here, as this is a freely accessible area, the occupancy sign notwithstanding. It is most unsuitable for intimate activities."  
  
His concern was logical. Not only was she cavorting with the intensely reserved and proper first officer, which in itself was likely to cause much consternation in the ranks, but in a public space too. Should he become the subject of scurrilous crew gossip, the loss of personal dignity for Spock, who carried and comported himself with pride, would be immense.  
  
It probably wouldn't do her career any good either.  
  
"I would suggest your quarters," he continued, eyes narrowed in thought, still clasping her hands to his chest, "but I know you are sharing and it would be singularly inappropriate for you to bring a partner there, especially if that partner is me. It would be better if we carry on as usual. If nothing else, it entertains the crew to follow our arguments." His warm brown eyes crinkled in amusement. "I have heard there is even a betting pool."  
  
He kissed her forehead. "I would suggest my quarters, but Captain Kirk has a regrettable habit of bursting in unannounced, even in the night."  
  
"You could engage the privacy lock."  
  
"I could," he agreed. "However, since I do not habitually lock my door, should the captain desire to burst in and find it in that state, he would correctly surmise that 'something is up' and he would want to know about it. The captain is simultaneously attentive, curious and perceptive. He and Doctor McCoy can also override the lock if it is deemed necessary."  
  
Something would certainly be up, Juno thought to herself, noticing that Spock's erection had not subsided and in fact, was looking perkier by the minute. She resisted laying her hands on it because Spock was right, they should find some privacy.  
  
"It is a dilemma," she said with a straight face, adoring the fact that this very sweet Vulcan was having a logical discussion with himself over where to continue with what he referred to as intimate activities.  
  
"So I believe the best place, for the moment, would be my office. There is a bathroom as well as a sleeper couch for the times when I work long hours, as happens frequently. We would be comfortable there, and more secluded than in either of our quarters."  
  
"Is it safe from the captain?"  
  
Spock blinked at her, and the corners of his mouth both twitched upwards at the same time. A deep dimple in his left cheek showed itself for a second, and her legs went weak with the perfection of it. Brains, courage, strength, beauty AND a dimple - oh, this man.  
  
"As a rule, yes, because he respects it as my work space. Of course, should we be attacked by ruthless hostile aliens, or the warp core be in imminent danger of exploding -"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"You realise that we will have to disclose our relationship to him, as I am of the view that this is not a frivolous liaison."  
  
"I agree," she said to both statements. "As principled officers we can't do otherwise."  
  
"I doubt that he has any inkling, because to date we have been seen only to -"  
  
"Spock - your office?"  
  
"Oh yes. Come along."  
  
Tugging his hoodie down to cover the heavy bulge between his legs, he led the way up to the science complex.


	11. Getting down to business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno change their relationship status.

Spock was right. His office was warm and cosy, it was quiet and private, and the sleeper couch was just right.  
  
The last time she'd been here the atmosphere had been very different. This time Juno was charmed, rather than irritated, to see things strewn about the room just like any other busy person. Spock bustled around, moving papers and textbooks and data tablets and recorders and portable scanners, a model of the interior of an unknown creature's brain, the ill-fated speaker, the circuit boards of several pieces of equipment that he had been modifying in his spare time, and a sample of soil from the last time they had made planetfall. He neatly folded a blanket that had been left on the couch and picked up two pillows off the floor.  
  
Finally he was satisfied, and he turned to Juno, hands behind his back, looking shy and holding in a smile. The Spock dimple in his left cheek was in evidence. He bent his head as she kissed that spot, and allowed more of the smile to emerge.  
  
Still all endearing formality, he lifted her hand and stroked her index and middle fingers with the corresponding digits on his hand. This had an interesting effect on him - a green blush rose to his cheeks, his breath quickened noticeably and his eyes darkened as the pupils rapidly expanded.  
  
"A Vulcan's hands are extremely sensitive to - stimulation." he informed her huskily, making it sound as seductive as sex talk from a human.  
  
"Was that a type of Vulcan stimulation?"  
  
"It is a very intimate gesture, a form of a kiss."  
  
"What about other types of finger stimulation? Like this?" Keeping her azure eyes fixed on him, Juno took his index finger into her mouth and withdrew it very slowly, applying a small amount of suction to the exiting finger.  
  
His erection throbbed in response. He was so hard now. "Oh…"  
  
"Or this?"  
  
Her tongue swirled around his fingertip, and he moaned as she sucked, nibbled and licked the sensitive pad and surrounding skin. Tempted as he was to close his eyes and enjoy only the tactile sensation, he found it immeasurably more erotic to watch Juno's single-minded focus on that small part of his body.  
  
Suddenly the office was uncomfortably hot for Spock. He attempted to take off his hoodie but, reluctant to remove his finger from Juno's mouth, could only get his head and one arm out. Distracted by his writhing and wriggling, Juno looked up for the first time in several minutes and was surprised to see how flushed he was. A green bloom tinged the pointed tips of his extraordinary ears and covered his cheeks, extending down his neck to disappear beneath a covering of silky strands on his torso.  
  
She released his hand and he tore the unwanted garment off and tossed it aside, breathing hard.  
  
Juno licked her lips. She couldn’t help it. His torso was glorious, his musculature subtly defined. Strong shoulders, beautiful arms, tight pectorals, and that mouth-watering sprinkling of hair over his chest, tapering to a dark line that trailed down his belly and disappeared under his waistband. At the moment his sweatpants appeared to be several sizes too small to accommodate the bulge that strained and pushed at the fabric  
  
"Now you," he said, hooking his fingers under her tunic. Quick as lightning, he whisked it over her head and flung it down. Deft fingers turned her, unfastened her bra and turned her back again, and that delicate item also joined the growing pile of clothes. His hands reached for her breasts. He lightly ran the backs of his fingers over plump cinnamon-tinted nipples, marvelling at how they swelled at his touch.  
  
Juno was not generally shy in these situations. But suddenly the man with her was the imposing Commander Spock again - albeit a half-naked Spock - and not the man who would soon be her lover, by his choice and hers. She covered herself and began to turn away.  
  
"Do not hide from me," Spock said softly. He caught her hands, holding her in place with no effort and taking in every lush, exposed inch of her. The word ‘ample’ came to mind, and she was. It was hard to not be entranced by her tawny skin, the rich curve of her hips, the tapering of her rounded thighs to shapely ankles. She was not a skinny woman, and he liked that.  
  
Her breasts captivated him. "Fascinating," he breathed, bending to kiss each one in turn. Then he took a moment to study them, comparing the variations in hue, the texture of the skin, and the small differences in size and weight, while Juno stood still and let him indulge himself.  
  
She wasn't sure what she'd expected from this encounter - crazy Vulcan sex, passions running wild, unheard-of positions? This living laboratory experience was not it - but given who she was with, it wasn't surprising. With Spock there would always be a careful progression of events, because he never wanted to miss out on anything. A consummate scientist and researcher, he was thorough and diligent in everything that he did - including, apparently, seduction.  
  
"I want to suck them," he murmured, and she shivered in delight. "I want to bite them." Then he did both, using his lips, teeth and tongue until her nipples stood out like beads.  
  
The pile of clothes grew and grew again. Spock's sweatpants and briefs were the last items to join the pile. Now it was his turn to submit to her scrutiny. Everything she saw was a feast for the eye. His body was so well proportioned and if he looked a little on the slender side, with those slim hips and long lean thighs, she was reminded that he had three times the strength of humans.  
  
Rising up like a pillar from the centre of those hips, his erect cock bobbed playfully as he moved. Juno inspected it, noting its spectacular green colour and pleasing shape. She had half expected a complicated alien structure that would require coaching from its owner to manipulate, but apart from its verdant hue and a rougher surface texture this lovely organ was very human-like, as was the tightly drawn up sac below, with its twin contents outlined intriguingly. It would be interesting to run a chromosomal analysis on him to see how much of him was genetically Vulcan and how much was human. Then she stopped herself. She was behaving like him.  
  
"Are you going to just look, or are you going to touch?" Spock sounded offended that she had not yet pounced on him. It seemed that the time for research had abruptly ended.  
  
"I will touch, as long as you let me look later."  
  
"You may examine it in intimate detail, but please, Juno, I ache for your hands on me."  
  
She stepped up to him and took the hot, hard shaft in her hand. Spock sucked in his breath and gripped the edge of his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him from sinking to the deck. He grunted as she slid her fingers from base to tip, back down, and up again. The skin around the shaft was a little rough to the touch, abrasive even. Her clit pulsed in anticipation.  
  
"That's good?"  
  
"Yes … yes."  
  
On each up stroke she slipped her thumb gently over the engorged head, as he clenched his teeth and tried not to come. Pearly pale green fluid began to seep from the small opening at the tip, and she scooped it up on a fingertip and touched it to her tongue.  
  
Spock thought he might just pass out from the sheer sensuousness of the gesture.  
  
"It tastes like -"  
  
He leaned forward and drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting a smoky flavour that was not her. A hand slipped between her legs, exploring a new territory of folds and depths and heat and wetness. Fingers slid up into a tight tunnel that squeezed instinctively around them. The feeling was beyond any rational description.  
  
He put his thumb on the little button of flesh nesting above the entrance and wiggled it gently, and was rewarded with a breathless cry as she arched her back and pushed against his hand.  
  
He felt unexpectedly proud when, a few wiggles later, Juno whimpered and came suddenly. He felt her orgasm around the fingers that fluttered inside her and he experienced it as a wave of intense pleasure that flowed into him through their contact. By now he had a grip on his own impending climax and he was able to hold her through hers with a strong arm around her back.  
  
"Oh god … Spock …"  
  
"I felt it too."  
  
Juno leaned against his chest, feeling his arms come around her. "I wasn't expecting that so soon."  
  
"It is my wish that you take such pleasure as often as I can give it to you."  
  
"I plan to," she said, taking his slightly droopy penis in her hand, "but now it's your turn." Two tugs brought him back to full hardness. She cupped his testicles in the other hand, massaging them in time to the strokes on his shaft.  
  
Something Kirk had once said suddenly popped into Juno's mind and she snickered. Spock came back down to earth enough to raise an eyebrow.  
  
"The captain told me you could be quite a handful. He wasn't kidding."  
  
She squeezed, and he gasped.  
  
"I can no longer stand."  
  
Unwilling to disengage, they shuffled to the couch, legs and arms working clumsily together like a multi-limbed creature with balance problems.  
  
They fell on the blanket and with some manoeuvring and a giggle or two and a guest reappearance of the smile dimple, Spock was poised above Juno, hands cradling her face, dark gaze locked with hers. Fire burned behind his eyes but he would not take his pleasure selfishly. She answered his unspoken question with an elated "Yes", letting out a small moan as his hips dipped and the fleshy head of his cock probed her opening, and with a single firm thrust he slid in.  
  
"Juno …" he sighed.  
  
"Spock ... you feel incredible ..."  
  
She comfortably took his entire length, which was not inconsiderable, and wrapped her legs around his waist to allow him the deepest possible access. He did feel incredible, like a fine sandpaper dragging across a piece of silk.  
  
"You are a perfect fit for me," he murmured, mouth nuzzling a sweet nipple.  
  
His limited experience in such matters meant that Spock was not a man given to sexual theatrics. He was a competent lover, he knew, but not very creative, and he did not pretend to be otherwise. He wasted no time in establishing a rhythm that was comfortable for them both, telepathically sensing Juno's needs and letting them dictate the tempo of his thrusting. He delighted in her enjoyment and took pride in every little cry and gasp that he, Spock, caused her to utter.  
  
Only when he sensed her about to climax again did he release his control.  
  
As she shuddered under him and tightened around him, he finally let go, pumping deep and fast into her, gasping unintelligible Vulcan words, and allowed himself to go over the edge.


	12. A devious plan is needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Spock and Juno have complicated matters for themselves, they need a way to deflect possible curiosity.

"We need a diversion," he said later, as they lay cuddled together under the blanket. The lights were dimmed and the temperature was human normal. In the background a Gammaramian song played at low volume on the speaker. The shrill whooping and squawking was beginning to sound quite romantic. Spock, for one, was really enjoying the variety of music, although only someone very familiar with it would be able to tell that there was any variety at all.  
.  
She knew instantly what he meant. "Is it necessary?"  
.  
"I believe so," he said, in between dotting feathery kisses all over the side of her face. Occasionally a low rumble of contentment would vibrate against her skin. "It will not be impossible to conceal this change in our relationship, but it will be difficult, especially for you."  
.  
"Yes, I don't have the ability to turn on a poker face at will," she teased, and Spock tweaked her ear in response.  
.  
"People will see and believe what they are led to believe. If they believe we are enemies, that is what they will focus on, and any small slips on your - our part will be overlooked."  
.  
"Psychology 101," she agreed, absently running the pads of her fingers along his collarbone and up towards his ear. Those breathtakingly beautiful ears had not yet been fully exploited. She had every intention of doing so, often.  
.  
"It will have to be - epic," he mused, turning his head slightly so his ear was more accessible to her. "So as to entrench, once and for all, the notion that we detest each other."  
.  
She traced the shape of the gorgeous appendage and carefully rubbed the point between her fingers. He shivered with pleasure. This was something to keep in mind, she thought. Next time she would suck it.  
.  
"We don't really, though."  
.  
"Juno. Vulcans do not embark on sexual relations lightly. That is why I specifically said 'the notion'." He raised himself up on an elbow, tracing patterns around her nipples with one long finger. "Would you like confirmation?"  
.  
'Yes, please - oh! Oh ... your fingers are ... unbelievable ... I also want to -"  
.  
"Yes ... you can be a little less tentative, I assure you, you won't hurt me ... aah ..."  
.  
The scene moments later had a distinct sense of unreality, even though the sensations were very definitely real. Spock had latched tightly on to one breast and was sucking the nipple with abandon. His eyes, half closed with languid contentment, were fixed on the plump object of interest. He was squeezing the other nipple gently and rhythmically. His hips were moving slowly as he rubbed himself against her hand.  
.  
Just watching him so caught up in the enjoyment of lovemaking was as much of a turn-on for Juno as the things he was doing to her. She wanted him inside her. Spock felt it. He too was ready. Moving up her body, he cupped her face in his hands. His eyes asked the question and she answered by raising her legs and wrapping them around his hips. He lunged forward, kissing her deeply and simultaneously sliding easily into her.  
.  
Her cry was swallowed up in his mouth. As he began to thrust she felt the delicious rasping of his cock along every inch of her, leaving her nerve clusters tingling, to the point of almost unbearable sensitivity. She clutched his arms, whimpering, unable to stop her hips from jerking up to thump against his. Heat crawled down her spine to the place where they were joined, as Spock increased his pace. The Vulcan words starting to spill from his lips were a sign that he, too, was close to his own orgasm and had abandoned his control.  
.  
They moaned in unison, in time with his increasingly fierce thrusts. The burning pressure was too much for Juno; she came in a flood of exquisite contractions, clenching strongly around Spock and triggering his own powerful climax. The heat of his semen spilling over her raw nerve endings almost brought on another orgasm for Juno.  
.  
Spock eventually rolled off and lay on his back, flushed green and panting. His fingers touched Juno’s and twined with them.  
.  
Equally flushed and breathless, she regarded his penis as it lay on his stomach, sticky with their mingled fluids.  
.  
"It's quite incredible," she marvelled, running a gentle finger down its length. He flinched, then relaxed.  
.  
"It is hardly incredible, since you are looking at it."  
.  
She smiled at his literal interpretation. "You know what I mean. How does it get that knobbly texture?"  
.  
"It is caused by small structures in the skin, called papillae, which become deformed owing to a hydrostatic mechanism, to form the nodules. There is a precedent in your own earth’s biology, with cephalopods. However, for Vulcans the phenomenon is not under voluntary control."  
.  
"I wish you could feel it as I do. I’ve never experienced anything so beautiful.” As she said the words, Juno knew she was talking about Spock himself. He really was something special.  
.  
He squeezed her fingers in response. Turning on his side, he curled a hand around her breast, and closed his eyes in contentment. 

.  


Later still, she kissed a tousled and sleepy first officer on the spot where his dimple hid, and caressed the point of one elegant ear. "I should be getting back to my quarters, or Keiko will never stop asking questions."  
.  
"I would prefer it if you stayed," he grumbled, "but I do appreciate the logic of not arousing suspicions. Shall I see you here tomorrow?"  
.  
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," she whispered, smiling at the instant frown of puzzlement.  
.  
Glancing back as she slipped out the door, she saw him yawn, and that very ordinary action delighted her so much that she hugged herself and grinned all the way back to her quarters.


	13. What you see is not what you get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno put their diversion into action.

Two days later, the unlucky ensign who had been (deliberately, because of his predilection for gossip) called to the communications lab to take a message to Captain Kirk, witnessed an exchange of spiteful comments that eclipsed any that had gone before. When he tried to unobtrusively slink out the door Spock stopped him with an imperious "You have not been dismissed, Ensign," forcing the man to wait while the scene played out. 

"Mr Spock, I must protest. We could have been so much further along in our work if you didn't insist on taking an opposing view every time. I'm beginning to think that you do it deliberately!" 

Which was nonsense, of course, because with very few exceptions Spock never took a stance unless he was satisfied that it could be supported with facts. But the ensign didn't work in his department and was unlikely to know that. 

The Vulcan now stood impassively, hands clasped loosely behind his back, letting Juno vent her frustration. Inwardly he was admiring her theatrical talent. He made a mental note to recommend her to Lieutenant Tanzer for the end-of-year concert. 

"Lieutenant, I cannot emphasise how important it is that we finish analysing this musical piece." Spock spoke calmly, but his eyes were dark and beady as he watched her. "Kindly compose yourself and let us carry on with our task." 

The ensign started. Had Spock just made a joke? Surely not. He saw Juno cough and cover her face with her hands, shoulders shaking, leaning against the counter, obviously in terrible distress. He took a step forward but a Vulcan glare froze him in place. Great Architeuthis, Spock was cold! 

"Commander, that was unnecessary." Juno had tears running down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, sucking in her cheeks to prevent the grin from breaking out. "I am fully aware of the importance of this task, but I'm not the one causing delays." 

The Vulcan's only reaction was to fold his arms and raise his right eyebrow a few millimetres. 

"You -" She clenched her fists in frustration, while Spock gazed on in admiration cleverly disguised as extreme tranquillity. "I intend to place it on record that I've tried to do my work to the best of my ability but have been consistently thwarted by someone who thinks he knows more than I do about this subject." 

Spock merely tapped his fingers on his arm, oozing nonchalance. 

This cool attitude enraged Juno so much that she began to tremble, and snatching up a bread knife - an implement not often found in communications labs - she twisted it in her hands for a minute, eyes darting around wildly, before ripping up the sheet music with it. Visibly controlling herself, she threw the implement down. The ensign, cowering but watching with terrified interest, noted that even Spock had taken a step back at that point. 

"Are you done?" Spock asked in a flat, super-Vulcan tone. "This is most illogical. Such an emotional display cannot possibly advance our assignment, Lieutenant. We will enter orbit around Gammarami tomorrow. Time is of the essence. If you are incapable of carrying out your duties with professionalism kindly advise me of such so that I may make alternative arrangements." 

"Frankly, Mr Spock," Juno said in a voice quavering with suppressed laughter, although the ensign interpreted it as emotion, "I have never worked with such an obstructive person as yourself. If it were up to me I would certainly ask for a reassignment, but I have committed myself to this project and I will see it through." 

"We appreciate your sacrifice, Lieutenant." 

The twitch of his mouth and the flash of his dimple, unseen by the ensign who was standing on his other side, was the signal for Juno to desist. She threw up her hands in disgust, giving the ensign a look that said "Vulcans!" Wordlessly Spock held out a moistened paper towel and she took it to refresh her face. 

He turned to the ensign. "I regret that you had to witness that, Ensign, please be so good as to use the utmost discretion," Spock said gravely, thereby virtually guaranteeing that the story would be all over the ship within hours. "And take this status report to the captain." 

The ensign scurried out, clutching the data tablet Spock had given him. He completely missed the part where Juno, still crying with laughter, fell into Spock's waiting arms. He also missed the bit where the Vulcan kissed her tears all away. 

"Best poker face in the galaxy." She laid a hand on his cheek. "You're brilliant." 

"Thank you." He pressed his face into her hand. "It was indeed an admirable joint effort." 

Kirk later received word that the unfortunate lieutenant had been summoned to Mr Spock's office for an extra period of overtime work on the composition. The first officer was adamant that this time, she would not be allowed to leave until he was satisfied, and was unmoved by Juno's pleas for clemency. She had brought it on herself, after all. 

The captain felt a little sorry for Morris, because he knew from his own early experience that working with Spock could be quite infuriating for someone not used to him, although such shenanigans were really not professional. He also knew that Spock was a strict disciplinarian when he needed to be and he trusted that the Vulcan had the matter well in hand. 

Spock did have the matter well in hand later that evening. In both hands, in fact. And there was discipline involved. 

And for the first time, Juno had an excuse for staying the whole night.


	14. Heading into danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise party beams down to Gammarami, knowing that they may be putting themselves in danger.

The landing party beamed down to the competition venue the next morning. It was their first meeting with the organisers since taking up orbit in the early hours, and they were to attend a rehearsal performance of all the entries. 

Kirk had cautioned Juno and Spock to behave themselves. Usually a perceptive person, he was seemingly oblivious to the body language of both of them, which after a vigorous bout of morning sex didn't shout "I wish I didn't have to work with you" as much as it did "I wish I could always work with you". Spock, especially, fluctuated between Juno and Kirk when he would normally have stuck like a magnet to Kirk's side. But the captain didn't notice, because they both looked suitably chastened, hanging their heads contritely, and that was all he was interested in. 

Spock gave Juno a smug look. "See?" it said. 

They materialised in a spacious square, paved with white stone and surrounded by tall, ornately carved columns of the same stone, and flower beds planted in colourful patterns. A rectangular reflecting pool shimmered in the centre of the square. White stone benches were scattered about, affording Gammaramians the opportunity to sit and admire the landscaping or watch the scenery reflected in the pool. 

The sky was a pale orange, and an equally pale sun hung low in the sky. It was a fresh, cool morning, with many birds and insects already about their business, and a pleasant floral scent wafted through the air on a subtle breeze. 

It was the kind of harmless, appealing place the Enterprise crew enjoyed spending time in. Kirk looked forward to authorising some shore leave for his work-weary colleagues. He would be careful to ensure that shore leave took place away from the city - no point in exposing more people than necessary to possible danger. 

"Captain Kirk?" A short, dark-skinned man was hurrying forward. "Welcome! We are honoured by your presence. I am Maestro Matin. May I introduce you to my organising committee and your fellow judges?" 

He gestured towards a group standing just inside the door of a nearby building. 

Kirk suffered through the introductions graciously; he was already irritated about the day because of having to keep an eye on Spock and Juno, and because he knew he'd have to listen to the kind of Gammarami music that made him feel ill. But none of that showed as he smiled, shook everyone's hands, and introduced them to his companions. 

Long familiar with Kirk's ways, Spock knew how the captain was really feeling and as always, admired his ability to rise above personal discomfort and be the consummate diplomat and Starfleet representative that he had grown to become. 

There were five judges; besides Matin, there was Wilbur, Rosanna and the unfortunate Zephany, with Spock completing the quintet. Juno, as his assistant, was permitted to sit with him. 

"And this is our cultural centre, Captain," Matin said, indicating with his hand, in a showy arc, the splendour of the building around them. "We are in the concert hall, but there is also a museum and a talent school in this building, and a creative studio elsewhere in the complex. Here is where the very heart of our people resides." 

With a flourish, he indicated a magnificent tiered chandelier hanging above the area where the judges' booths had been set up. "This was hand-crafted by graduates of this very talent school, Captain and officers. There are almost a thousand hand-cut pieces of glass, each one attached manually and individually to the three concentric rings you see there. The rings, of course, are made from swaecium, a metal that is native to this planet." 

"Fascinating," murmured a deep voice close to Juno's left shoulder, accompanied by the humming of a tricorder. "The metal appears to be unusually dense. I would say that getting it up there was quite an accomplishment." 

Matin bowed in acknowledgement. "Indeed, Commander. We had to lift it into position with a crane from overhead, supported by an industrial strength antigrav unit." 

"How is it fixed to the ceiling?" 

"We have a reinforced framework above the ceiling, connected to the structure of the building, and the chandelier is fastened to that." 

Spock nodded, continuing to scan. 

"In fact," Matin went on, "all of the decor you see here was crafted by our own students." 

The Enterprise party turned around to look and murmur appreciatively. The maestro was pleased at how impressed they appeared to be. 

He moved forward, one arm grandly flung out in the direction of a nearby table laden with eats and drinks. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would follow me please, we would like to offer you some refreshments and then proceed with the rehearsal."


	15. The best entertainment happens behind closed doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch-time nookie is on the menu for Juno and Spock.

An hour later, Kirk, sitting in the sparse audience, was wishing he'd brought along McCoy and his magic hypospray for headache medication. The pain was excruciating, but fortunately it eased as soon as the music stopped. There was apparently something about the frequency of the sound waves that his brain really didn't like.  
  
Spock and Juno seemed unaffected, but then they had been working for weeks on this project and perhaps the part in their brains that was affected by the soundwaves had been killed off by now.  
  
The Gammaramians in the audience, needless to say, were enthralled, moving their arms, stiffly extended in front of their thighs, in a pendulum-like motion from side to side. Possibly this was their version of tapping their feet.  
  
The maestro, too, was conducting the orchestra in inimitable style, darting back and forth in front of the musicians, giving a leap here and there, occasionally contributing a whoop or squawk to each piece – not unlike some kind of exotic two-legged wild creature.  
  
The instruments that produced much of the screeching that characterised Gammaramian music were indeed eight-stringed, as Juno had postulated, and for which she had been thoroughly scolded. She refrained from pointing it out to Spock, but she knew he knew. The strings were made of strands of swaecium of varying thicknesses, designed to resonate at an optimal frequency for the loudest and most terrible note. The orchestra performed on various versions of the instruments, each version producing a different sound. The result was like a choir of furious cats having their tails bitten by dogs.  
  
The lunch break came none too soon, and Kirk had a medical staff member beamed down with some relief for his headache. The medic departed and, rubbing the back of his neck, Kirk looked a little bitterly at Spock and Juno as they stood to one side, heads close together, animatedly discussing the composition that had just been performed. Not only were the two of them completely oblivious to the screeching and the yowling, but now they seemed to even be enjoying this excursion. At least they were getting on with each other today, and Kirk figured he would take that willingly over a quiet peaceful morning.  
  
"Captain, I would like to explore the museum before we go back into the hall." Morris, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin, was standing before him expectantly.  
  
"Of course, Lieutenant. See that you're not back late."  
  
Spock purposely did not watch her disappear through the large double doors that led to the museum. He flipped through the sheaf of musical notations that he carried with him as a reference, fully intending to brush up on one particularly difficult piece, but after some minutes he found that his desire lay elsewhere. He turned to Kirk.  
  
"Jim, I believe I, too, would find it interesting to peruse the museum's exhibits."  
  
"Naturally, Spock, but please don't start a fight in there."

Juno was standing in front of a suit of armour, admiring the intricate metal work and the bronze patina on the helmet, when Spock came up quietly behind her and put his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to him. He bit her exposed neck lightly, and she shivered. Spock liked to bite when he was aroused. He never drew blood but he often left bruises.  
  
"Feeling amorous, Mr Spock?" she teased.  
  
"Exceedingly so." As proof, he offered a healthy erection, pressing it into her lower back and making her gasp. "But I suggest we find a secluded spot before proceeding."  
  
The secluded spot turned out to be a small supply room off to one side.  
  
"We have 12.2 minutes," Spock said, more calmly than he felt. "I wish to take all of that time."  
  
He lifted her onto a cabinet. Then he slid his hands under her skirt and nuzzled into her neck, feeling with his mouth for the pulse that beat there, measuring the steady rise of her heartbeat through lips and tongue. In one part of his neatly compartmentalised mind he recalled that he had once fondly accused Doctor McCoy of being a sensualist. Well, if the good doctor could see him now …  
  
His hands were busy with the most delicate parts of her, long fingers stroking through the fabric of her panties with just the right amount of pressure, gently thumbing the bud of her clit, relishing the little gasps and moans his touch brought forth. Her arms were around his neck, gripping his uniform tightly in each fist, and it didn't tax his telepathic senses to discern that her levels of arousal were high - as were his, although she had not yet laid a hand on him.  
  
"Are you ready?" he murmured into her ear.  
  
Breathless, she could only nod.  
  
Quickly undoing his trousers, he pushed them down over his thighs, struggling for a moment to get his briefs over his now fully erect cock. Fumbling with the waistband, he looked up at Juno with a little smile that could only be described as sheepish. Her heart lurched with affection for him.  
  
"Put your legs around me."  
  
For all that he was a man of immense physical power, Spock was a selfless and gentle lover. Even in the mindlessness of orgasm, at the moment when he came apart in the whirlwind of his own passion, he never lost his hold on the disciplines that held that great power in check.  
  
Now Juno was reminded of the forces that lay coiled beneath that cool Vulcan surface. He effortlessly gathered her up into his arms. Holding her panties aside with one finger, he lowered her gently towards his pelvis.  
  
"Guide me in, my _tal-kam._" The Vulcan endearment slipped out so softly and naturally that neither of them took conscious notice of it.  
  
His penis twitched noticeably when she wrapped her fingers around it and positioned it in the right place, and Spock made a gruff sound of delight that curled her toes. Then he speared her.  
  
Still standing easily, buried to the root inside Juno, Spock now crossed to the nearest wall so that he could lean her against it and begin, ever so slowly, to rock his hips.  
  
"Spock … oh … "  
  
"We have … six minutes … aaah … " Zero decimal places, a certain sign that he was distracted.

This tender Spock was a beautiful version of him that Juno alone knew. Everybody else knew Spock as the Vulcan first officer who cut an imposing, rather dashing figure and tackled his commander's duties with diligence and purpose. As the science officer, he ran a tight, efficient department, one that was known for its prolific contribution to journals and reference books in the Federation and beyond. As the talented musician and chess grandmaster, he effortlessly applied his brilliant mind to cultural pursuits.  
  
But this was also Spock, his expression open and vulnerable, his eyes alight with enjoyment, his gaze locked with hers, his hair adorably ruffled. This was Spock, delicately and deliberately making her skin tingle wherever he touched her. This was Spock, beginning to breathe heavily as he increased the pace of his thrusting. This was Spock, eyes darkening with satisfaction as he felt Juno reach her climax and clench around him. This was Spock, seconds from orgasm, his face flushed and his ears tipped with a vivid green bloom, unable to silence his own sounds of passion. This was Spock, hands curled around her shoulders, coming with a long shuddering sigh as he buried his face in her neck. This was Spock, not yet ready to leave her body, murmuring in pleasure as Juno rubbed the small of his back.  
  
Finally his softening penis, sticky and wet, popped out of her. It was time to go back.  
  
"I believe we should re-join the group," he informed her with an air of reluctance. "We are not late yet, but if we are to avoid arousing Jim's suspicions we should not linger."  
  
Juno was suddenly feeling exceptionally tender towards him. "I promise to rub your back some more later."  
  
"That will be most acceptable."


	16. An unfortunate accident - or is it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is an unintended victim of an assassination attempt.

This time Kirk did notice the dynamic between Spock and Juno, which now was flavoured with something like awkwardness. Both seemed a little flushed, too. Fuck it, they did have an argument, he groaned inwardly.

"Can I not take you two anywhere?" he snapped.

Another smug look flickered across Spock's face, quickly smothered by apparent contrition. He was not going to disabuse the captain of the scenario that seemed to now be gospel all over the ship. After all it was not a lie, exactly. More like an error.

"Captain, it's not what you think," Juno protested truthfully, looking hurt. This was a stroke of genius on her part, Spock thought. She was being completely honest but knowing the captain as he did, Kirk would now be convinced that he was right. Deflection was indeed a powerful weapon.

"We don't have time to debate this, Lieutenant. Just get on with the job, please," Kirk replied, sounding irritated. In truth, his mood was soured more by the prospect of the cacophony that would break out within minutes, than these two and their pesky feud.

"I can't sit through more of this today, Spock," he complained. "I'm going back. Please come and see me when you're done." He moved off, taking his leave of their hosts, and soon disappeared in a sparkling haze of light and sound.

Maestro Matin assumed the podium, arms raised like a large predatory bird, and the other judges took their places.

In the lighting framework above the hall, Smoil made his way carefully over to the three-tiered chandelier hanging directly above where the judges were sitting. His plan was to drop the heavy light right on top of his enemy, and that would be that. Smoil was unaware, though, that the judges were sitting in a different order to that which had been allocated while he was still part of the panel, and that Wilbur was now sitting in Zephany's place.

He was fully prepared to sacrifice himself for his cause, because if he succeeded he could never be a part of Gammaramian society again.

Smoil had been working on the chandelier's supporting structure for some days, removing a bolt here, a clamp there, a strap somewhere else. His dismissal from the judging panel had not affected his position as a member of the academy's staff, so there was nothing unusual in him running tests and taking stress measurements. However, his work was not to shore up the safety features, but to undermine them. His plan had been to weaken the whole apparatus until it would take minimal effort to send the whole thing crashing to the ground. He estimated that the removal of just three more bolts would cause the weakening to reach the point of no return.

Another bolt came loose, and then one more. Almost there. He kicked at the framework once, twice. The structure creaked, but held fast. He looked down through the power cable's feeder hole to the floor below, concerned that someone might have heard the noise. The booth directly below, belonging to his victim, was unoccupied. In the next booth Smoil saw the Vulcan look around and then glance upwards. Quickly he pulled back and blended into the shadows.

After a few tense moments he edged forward again and peered down. The Vulcan was sitting with his hands clasped in front of him. The target booth next to him was being occupied now; Smoil could see a hat, an arm and some clothing as the person laid down the bag they were carrying and prepared to sit. Assuming it was Zephany, he sighed in relief. But it seemed that he had to remove the third bolt, after all.

And when he did, the chandelier plummeted towards the ground - but Smoil had inadvertently set it swinging in a small arc, and it had torn free at the apex of the arc. The chandelier, therefore, didn't fall straight down but was aimed also at the judging booth beside Wilbur's - which was occupied by Spock.

Smoil didn't wait to see the results of his handiwork. He moved off immediately and exited the ceiling space through a hatchway on the far side. From there he hastened to his office and pretended that he'd been there all along, when representatives of the centre's council came to ask him a few questions.


	17. Death and destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock has a narrow escape. Suspicions are raised about the incident.

The chandelier ploughed into the two adjoining booths. The lowest and biggest metal ring caught Wilbur on the neck and killed him instantly. Milliseconds later the smaller rings crushed his body to a pulp.

Spock had been on alert from the minute he heard the creak that he was unable to identify, and he was fortunate to have risen at the last second, his Vulcan hearing warning him of something sizeable rushing in at speed. The big ring trapped his arm instead of his neck, but the glass pieces did plenty of damage, slicing into his skin in dozens of places. Green spots of blood began to seep into his clothing.

Shouts of alarm broke out all around. On the other side of Spock, Juno cried out in fright, shielding her face as crazily tinkling glass rained down, cutting into her as well. The two other judges within the incident radius, Rosanna and Zephany, were also lightly hurt by the flying shards, as were some assistants who were standing nearby.

Matin, over by the orchestra, had been out of harm’s way. Surrounded by a group of concerned assistants and musicians, the maestro now stood to one side, wringing his hands. Caught in mid-leap when the incident happened, in his shock he had collided painfully with two performers. In the pile-up he'd suffered great embarrassment and both instruments had been extensively damaged, but they were the only casualties in the orchestra.

Reflexively Juno flipped open her communicator. "Morris to Enterprise. There's been an accident, we have injuries. Please send down an emergency medical team into the competition venue at once."

She didn't wait for a response, but immediately went over to Spock, who was bloodied, pinned to the ground, and trying vainly to extricate his arm. The solid metal ring, about 150 centimetres in diameter but extremely heavy because of its density, wasn't budging and the swaecium would have been a challenge for his formidable Vulcan strength even if he was not injured and dazed. The arm below was already massively bruised and swelling rapidly and his confused efforts to pull it free were tearing his skin.

Juno knew she had to stop him from doing more damage to himself. "Help is on the way," she told him, gripping his uninjured wrist. Please hang on, love, she thought, trying to send him strength through her touch. She had no thought for herself or anyone else at that point; her mind was wholly centred on her injured man. Not even the gruesome sight of Wilbur’s lifeless body mere centimetres away could shift her focus.

Her intervention broke through Spock’s struggle. He shook his head as if to clear it, a sure sign that he was in trouble. A trail of blood ran down his cheek where a piece of glass had sliced deeply into his skin. "Nothing can be done until this ring is lifted," he said in a voice rough with pain and shock. "Please see if anyone else needs urgent assistance."

Just then the medical team, headed by Doctor McCoy, materialised. Quickly McCoy dispatched medics to attend to the injured parties, as he made his way over to Spock and Juno.

"What the hell happened?"

"The chandelier fell and crushed Spock and Wilbur." Juno was trying to stay calm through sudden violent trembling and nausea. The monstrous crash of the chandelier as it hit the ground reverberated in her ears. She knew there was a dead body among the debris. Her skin stung intensely from the numerous glass cuts. She swallowed and tried to conduct herself like a battle-hardened, highly trained Starfleet officer should.

"Let's have a look."

McCoy saw instantly that he couldn’t help Wilbur. The doctor knelt beside Spock who, of the survivors, seemed to have gotten the worst of it, and quickly assessed his injuries. His attempt to shift the metal ring was also to no avail. Equally concerning, the Vulcan's head was drooping and it looked like shock was getting the better of him.

"Are you all right for now?" he asked Juno gently, touching her arm. "I'd like to see to Spock first."

At her nod, he signalled the ship. "McCoy to Enterprise. Lock onto Spock, Morris and myself and beam us up. Spock needs immediate medical attention. Have Nurse Chapel and her team standing by in the transporter room."

Moments later they materialised on the pads. Spock, now free of the swaecium ring, was snatched up at once by the waiting medics.

"There's been a death," McCoy informed Scott, who was working the transporter himself. "One of the other judges. Please tell the captain. And I think we'd better send a security detail down to assist with cleaning up and protection. There could be a murderer on the loose."

McCoy had not forgotten the alert message that had come through during the Gammarami briefing.

"Right ye are, Doctor."

Chapel and her assistants had meanwhile quickly noted that Spock could not lie on his back, peppered with glass as it was. They manoeuvred him into a prone position on the stretcher. His damaged arm hung down limply on the side, dripping green onto the floor from the torn, blood-smeared dent in the swollen forearm.

McCoy ran his scanner over the Vulcan while the nursing team began plucking the shards of glass out of his back, neck, shoulders and even his hair, with speed and care.

Juno stood to one side, speckled with her own blood, forgotten for the moment, staring at Spock's broken arm and trying not to cry. This was one of the reasons fraternisation wasn't encouraged, she thought, taking deep gulps of air in an effort to calm herself. Even a battle-hardened, highly trained Starfleet officer would not be unaffected when a partner got injured. Well, too late now. She was fucked. They both were.

There was a sudden commotion as Kirk rushed in. With a sweeping glance he took in the scene and seeing McCoy busy with Spock, went to Juno and grasped her arm. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Bones, how’s Spock?”

“He’s stable, Jim. No life-threatening injuries, but this arm is a mess. He needs surgery.”

“All right. Look after them. I must send a message of condolence to the Gammaramians.“

The captain left for the bridge as hurriedly as he’d entered, satisfied that his officers were in good hands.

McCoy palpated the injured limb as gently as he could but the pain was still enough to rouse Spock. He looked around fuzzily, caught Juno's gaze and instantly discerned her emotional state. He shook his head a fraction, indicating that she should stay calm. A scene on his behalf would give people ideas they should not be having just yet. I will be all right, he communicated silently to her with a heroic flash of dimple. Juno nodded just as imperceptibly and Spock closed his eyes and submitted to the ministrations of Doctor McCoy.

"Lieutenant, please come with me to sickbay." Christine Chapel had a compassionate hand on Juno's elbow and was gently steering her towards the door. "I'm sorry you had to wait a little bit, but we had to attend to Mr Spock first."

"I understand," Juno said, "thank you N-Nurse-" and then the tears spilled over and she sobbed into her sleeve as Chapel walked her into sickbay. At least she had managed to not cry in front of Spock.

"It's been a horrible shock, I know," the nurse said kindly. "Let's get you into a bed and we'll soon have you fixed up and feeling better."

Presently Juno was indeed feeling better with all the stinging glass shards removed, a soothing session with the dermal regenerator, and a dose of painkillers making her feel pleasantly drowsy. Sickbay was warm and quiet, but it was impossible to relax fully until she knew what was happening with Spock.

The Vulcan had been brought in and cleaned up, and the team was now operating on him. It seemed to be taking far too long for Juno’s liking, but McCoy had explained that the injury was severe although not dangerous, and it would take some delicate surgical magic to undo the damage.

Several hours later, Spock was finally out of surgery and had been settled. His arm was in the bone knit accelerator and he was under light sedation. Juno felt some of the tension drain from her at last.

Captain Kirk had been in to see them both and to get a brief status report from the doctor. Kirk was compassionate and encouraging, upset at what had happened, and clearly worried about his Vulcan friend. He was also angry with himself for having left early and not being there for Spock and Juno when the incident happened.

"No sign of whoever did it, if someone did," he growled. "What a disaster. For fuck's sake, someone has died, and Spock ..."

He hovered next to Spock's bedside for a while until McCoy patted him on the shoulder, reiterating that his first officer would be all right. After a while the captain meandered out.

"Jim, I'll join you a bit later for a brandy," McCoy called as Kirk went out. "We could both do with one. My treat."

Kirk waved over his shoulder.

"Come on, Spock, let's get you to a private room," McCoy said, as if the unconscious Vulcan was expected to comment. "Put him in 2C and make sure he's comfortable. I'll be in to check on him in a while," he told the orderlies.

"Are you feeling better?" The doctor leaned over Juno's bed, peering at the readings on the monitor above. "You were lucky. Spock too."

"I know," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "I feel ok, thank you - just a bit shaken still."

"I'd be surprised if you weren't. It must have been terrifying. But you'll be fine after a good night's sleep under the care of your friendly neighbourhood doctor. I'll probably discharge you tomorrow, just wanna make sure there isn't any delayed shock."

She refrained from asking about Spock, although she could barely think of anything else but him. She’d taken careful note of where the room was that they'd moved him to. Perhaps when the night shift was on and things had quietened down, she could sneak in to see him. For now, there was an additional puzzle.

"Doctor ... How does something like that just fall? The chandelier?"

McCoy passed a hand over his eyes wearily. "Your guess is as good as mine, Lieutenant. Jim mentioned that Spock had said from what he could see and understand, it was very well secured. It had to be, something that heavy. So either it was an unlikely accident, or it wasn't an accident at all. We can't say we weren't warned."

Now she had to ask, but only because McCoy had twice mentioned his name. "Will Commander Spock be all right?"

"Hoping your adversary will be around for many more furious arguments, eh? He'll be fine, but that arm was mangled inside. Bone crushed in places. Like solving a brainteaser. Good thing he's got that tough Vulcan build ... a human could very well have lost the arm. Because of the extensive internal and external tissue damage it’ll be a couple of weeks before he gets full mobility back, even with the bone knit accelerator and my impressive array of what he calls beads and rattles." He chuckled, then moved towards the door. "Now get some sleep, young lady."

Juno waited until McCoy was well out of earshot before she allowed herself to cry softly with relief.


	18. Cat out of the bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their secret is out, but luckily only the right people know.

Later that night Kirk, unable to sleep even after the nightcap with McCoy, decided to check in on Spock. He knew his Vulcan friend was receiving the best of care but Kirk was a hands-on person and liked to see things for himself. Besides, he told himself, you couldn't take too many precautions with that musicological bane of Spock’s life in the same facility. 

The bane in question had waited long enough. It was dark and quiet in sickbay and the only sounds came from the various machines and monitors. The night staff had started their shift and completed their evening rounds; with nothing to do at the moment they were all in the medical lounge reading. 

She decided that now was as good a time as any to sneak across to Spock's room. She had been thinking about him for hours, longing to be with him, wishing she could get to him without having to wait. There was nothing more important at this moment than to see him, touch him, and assure herself that he was all right. 

To get to where he was she had to pass the main entrance with its large, glass-panelled doors, and wholly intent on her mission, she didn't notice Kirk approaching. 

Rounding the corner which led to the main sickbay entrance, Kirk was horrified to see the very Juno of whom he had been thinking, cross the glass panels in the door ahead of him. What was she doing wandering around sickbay at this hour? Was Spock in danger? She hadn't seen him, apparently intent on her mission, which was - to hurt Spock? Sabotage his treatment? Surely not ... kill him? 

There was no time to lose. 

Kirk broke into a run and skidded through the sickbay entrance, eyes darting around. Spock had apparently been moved to a private room down the hall and Kirk saw with a thrill of apprehension that Juno was already going inside, still unaware of his pursuit. 

With his friend's life possibly on the line Kirk was tempted to go in with all guns blazing, but prudence won out. He decided on a hasty but stealthy approach - if he frightened her she might panic and do something rash. Quickly he crept towards Spock's room, senses on high alert, and stopped when he saw them through the observation window. Something about the scene told him that there was no danger to Spock, that he should wait. 

It took all of his considerable willpower to listen to that inner voice, but he pulled nearer to the wall and observed, ready to charge in should the need arise. 

Spock appeared to still be sleeping. Juno drew up a chair and sat down beside him, inspecting his arm and studying the illuminated panel of bio-indicators above his head. She was apparently pleased with the readouts, for Kirk saw a small smile appear on her face in profile. 

Then his eyes widened as she put a hand on Spock's torso, on the right side about halfway down - where his heart was located. Kirk was about to spring forward, already imagining the green blood spurting from Spock's punctured heart, so it was a genuine shock to see his hand come up and cover hers, holding it in place. The Vulcan's eyes remained closed but it seemed that a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth too. 

Bemused, Kirk still held back. These were not the actions of a dangerous person, he thought, nor of someone who sensed he was in danger. Hurt or healthy, awake or asleep, Spock's senses remained acute and unless he was heavily sedated, brain damaged, or catatonic Kirk trusted that they would warn him of peril. 

Leaning against the wall, arms folded thoughtfully, Kirk observed as the two apparent adversaries interacted in a way that was completely new to him - although, he told himself, clearly not to them. 

Juno leaned forward, gently smoothing the Vulcan's hair to the side, and dropped a soft kiss on his pale forehead. Then she laid her head next to his on the pillow. Spock reacted as if this was exactly what he was expecting - still holding her hand to his body, he turned his head to rest his cheek against her hair, and relaxed. He had not opened his eyes once. 

Kirk watched the two settle down, looking as peaceful and content as any couple - for it was obvious that they were a couple - he had ever seen. He now realised what was going on, and he had to hand it to them. Now that he thought about it, there were a few tell-tale signs but the sneaky pair had manoeuvred everyone into thinking that they hated each other. 

He withdrew, smiling to himself. 

Spock had woken at the gentle touch of Juno's hand over his heart, a habitual gesture of affection that was much favoured by both of them. He automatically covered it with his own, and immediately sensed her worry for him. Although he valiantly roused himself to reassure her of his improving health, it took some minutes before he was awake enough to hold a conversation. 

"How are you doing?" she asked softly. "How's your arm?" 

"I have been better," Spock conceded in a scratchy whisper. "It is painful, but the bone is healing well, Doctor McCoy informs me, and he will consider discharging me in three days and letting me go back on full duty in another three. But there is work to be done, Juno, much work. I suspect he is keeping me here because he enjoys making life difficult for me -" 

The increasingly agitated tone of his voice wrenched at her heart. He was not yet fully alert, she told herself, and also was recovering from surgery. He would understandably be a little confused until his mental processes were back up to speed. 

"That's illogical, love. He's keeping you here because you're hurt and he's a good doctor who wants to ensure that his patients are recovered before they leave his care," she commiserated, rubbing away the crease between his eyebrows with the pad of her thumb. It calmed him, and he was able to lie quietly for a short while.

When he spoke again he sounded much more like himself. "May I have some water, please?" 

"Of course." Immediately she turned to the bedside cabinet. 

Spock watched her intently. "How are you, _ tal-kam _? Were you hurt?" 

Juno paused in the middle of pouring him a glass of water. "That word again. You said it this afternoon." 

"Yes, I did." He took a sip, and another, and then drained the glass. The shock and the anaesthetic had made him extremely thirsty and he held out the glass for a refill. "It means 'dear one', in Vulcan obviously." 

"It means that?" Enchanted, she stroked his jaw tenderly with her thumb. 

"Are you surprised? I thought my fondness for you was clear." 

"It was, but I didn't want to assume." 

"That is wise. But tell me, do you think I go around having intimate relations with people willy-nilly?" 

Two jokes in as many days - Spock was on a roll. Juno chortled into his shoulder. Spock pretended he had no idea why. 

"No, love, I don't think that at all. I know your serious relationships have been few." 

"Well then." 

"You weren't just saying it because you - we were - " 

"Juno." The gentle admonishment brooked no further argument. "I do not 'just say' anything. I said that because it is how I feel, not because I was sexually aroused." He touched her cheek with a long finger. "Now tell me how you are doing." 

"I'm all right, thank you, love. Much better. McCoy says he'll probably discharge me tomorrow. He wanted to keep me overnight for observation to rule out delayed shock." 

"That, too, is wise. You will carry on the work until I can re-join?" 

She sat upright. "Re-join? We can't afford to wait a week." 

Spock gave an eyebrow shrug. "I agree, but I see no alternative. In matters relating to the health and welfare of the crew, particularly the command team, the doctor has the final say, as he should." 

Juno nuzzled into the angle of his neck and shoulder, and he gave a little shiver. “My beautiful Vulcan, you don't always have to do everything by the book." 

Eyebrows now descended in concern. "You sound alarmingly like the captain, _ tal-kam_." 

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, though she knew it wasn't meant as one. "So you do want to break out of here?" 

"Yes, but how?" 

"Leave it to me. Now close your eyes and rest." 


	19. Make the circle bigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and McCoy get Juno to admit the truth. Spock is not pleased with them for doing so.

On the way back to his quarters, Kirk encountered McCoy in the now deserted corridor.

"Restless night, Captain?" the doctor asked.

"Just checking up on Spock," Kirk replied. "You?"

"Same," McCoy admitted. "You satisfied?"

"Yes, Juno's with him," Kirk said, forgetting that he was almost certainly the only other person who knew what was really going on.

McCoy took off for sickbay in a flurry of arms and legs, crying, "Are you mad, Jim? How could you leave her alone with him?"

Kirk grabbed his arm just in time. "Bones, wait!"

McCoy stopped, trying to tug his arm free. "Haven't you heard that rumour of how she almost stabbed him with a bread knife? You know what she's like, how she loathes him. Why, she could be planning to -"

"Relax, Doctor. And be quiet."

"What's going on, Jim?"

Kirk pushed the sickbay door with a shoulder, motioning, with a jerk of his hand and a finger to his lips, for McCoy to follow him quietly.  


"That cunning little Vulcan," McCoy muttered, half admiringly, as they tiptoed towards the sickbay entrance a few minutes later. “He’s got some nerve. Pulling the wool over my eyes in my own sickbay!“

"So as you saw, Bones, the word 'loathe' is hardly applicable."

"Yes, no," McCoy mused distractedly, stroking his jaw. He seemed almost shell-shocked but, Kirk thought, it wasn't surprising given the way his mouth had dropped open when he saw Spock and Juno cuddled up and whispering to each other. "I have to say that his vital signs looked fine. No signs of stress in the indicators. She obviously has a soothing effect on him - if that pointy-eared ice block can claim to need soothing."

"Anyone who's hurt or ill would appreciate a bit of soothing, I guess. Even, on occasion, Vulcans."

"Well, they went to a helluva lot of trouble to hoodwink the entire crew, " McCoy said, thinking as he said it that he would probably never understand how Vulcan feelings worked. He knew they were there and tightly controlled for the most part, but never did he think Spock would indulge in, and act on, a good, honest, old-fashioned crush. True, the Vulcan had had dalliances before, but those were caused by outside influences, such as the spores on Omicron Ceti III, or happened in the line of duty, much to the Romulan commander's chagrin.

This seemed different, wholly unforced.

Kirk laughed, remembering the embattled speaker in Spock's office. "They did a fine job, too. Fucked all of us over."

"Damn straight." McCoy thought for a minute. "Are you going to tell them we know?"

"I'll have to. I'd feel bad to pretend otherwise and anyway, I'm sure they'll be grateful for a couple of dependable allies."

"Right." McCoy rubbed his hands together briskly. "Well, Captain, I'm prescribing some rest for you as well. It's been an irregular kind of night and we could all do with -"

He broke off as they encountered Juno, creeping back to her bed. She stopped when she saw them looking at her, identical expressions of pretend-stern interest on their faces.

"Captain, Doctor," she said hesitantly. "I, um, was just checking on Mr Spock, but please don't worry -"

"Stop babbling, girl," McCoy said genially. "We know."

"You … know?"

Kirk nodded. "We also came to check up on Spock." The implications were obvious.

"Oh. Well -"

"Let's go into your office, Bones." The captain shepherded his two charges back down the passage before sensitive information could reach any unwanted ears. At least with him and Bones lurking around Spock's room for most of the time they could be virtually certain that nobody else had seen what they saw.

"You two," McCoy pronounced with a sweep of his hand, once the door had swished shut, "owe Jim and me. Do you know how many grey hairs you've given us? The sob stories we've had to listen to? The times we've almost had to send in Security to intervene in your fights? And now you would have us believe that you actually like each other? You'll have to convince us, young lady. In other words, we want details."

She hesitated, looking at the doctor with wide blue eyes, and Kirk jumped in. "Just the basics. Spock is our friend and we respect his desire for privacy. Obviously if he wanted us to know he would have told us, but ... now we do know."

McCoy rummaged in a cupboard and brought out three plastic cups and a bottle of something yellow. "So it would be, if you'll excuse me, illogical for you to pretend otherwise," he remarked, sloshing a small volume of liquid into each cup. They each took one.

The captain tossed back the liquor, raised his eyebrows, and poured more. "What Doctor McCoy is trying to say, behind his growling, is that we're rather delighted at this turn of events."

"Really?" Juno looked from one to the other.

"Really. Spock very rarely allows himself any personal pleasures that are not work-related, but nobody deserves to do so more than him. If he’s happy then believe me, so are we.”

McCoy touched his cup to hers. She smiled uncertainly and took a tiny sip of what seemed to be banana-flavoured ... something.

“Now, Lieutenant,“ Kirk fixed his most piercing, questioning gaze on Juno, the one that no crew member could withstand. "How long have you two been holding out on us?"

"Some days." She bit her lip. "Not even a week. We had resolved to tell you, sir. We were both adamant that you should know, and you too, Doctor."

So it was still very new (although let's face it, he thought, they hadn't wasted much time. Bones had not been wrong with his initial assessment.). Kirk's expression softened. He felt compassion for the pair. He knew exactly how important dignity and privacy were to his first officer and he felt sure Juno didn't want her sex life to be the topic of conversation _du jour_ either. No wonder they tried to hide it.

They saw her eyes glisten for a moment. She swallowed and blinked the tears back; now was the time for professionalism, not emotionalism.

"My dear, Spock will be fine," McCoy said avuncularly, guessing her state of mind. "It takes more than a broken arm to bring down that stubborn Vulcan."

Kirk was also now thinking back to Spock's brief flirtations. He hoped this wasn't going to be like the others which, for the most part, had been complicated. "Are you two serious about this?"

Juno gestured incredulously with both hands palm up, and even McCoy looked surprised.

"You're right, of course," Kirk said. "It's Spock."

He coloured as something struck him. "So this morning, when I thought you two had been fighting in the museum, you had been … actually -"

Juno had the grace to blush and modestly lower her eyelashes.

The captain grinned indulgently.

McCoy patted her hand. "Don't mind Jim, he has a soft spot for Spock. Protective as hell. It's mutual, mind you. The times I've had to patch their idiot asses back together simply because the one can't allow the other one to get into trouble alone -"

"You've made your point, Doctor." Kirk gripped Juno's shoulders and gave her an earnest look. "Just ... don't hurt him, I beg you."

She held his gaze with all the sincerity and honesty she could summon. "Sir, I could never."

He nodded. It was an agreement of trust on his part and commitment on hers.

"We do have a situation," the captain now said briskly, "that I must address."

"Fraternisation," Juno said softly. "It has crossed my mind."

"Yes," Kirk replied, "and I'll have to talk to you both about it, together. This will complicate your performance assessment, you understand. We might have to postpone it. When Spock has recovered we'll have that chat."

Juno didn't tell him that Spock had already decided to hand that task over to him. That was for the two commanding officers to discuss. "Aye, sir."

"You two haven't broken any rules because Spock isn't in your direct line of command, but I would be remiss in my duty as captain if I didn't go through the regs - and the risks, should things … not work out - with you." He shrugged. "Spock, as second in command, knows all the rules as well as I do. It's a formality more than anything else."

"I intend to have words with the captain and Doctor McCoy for ambushing you last night.“

Juno had slipped back into Spock’s room just before alpha shift to tell him of what had transpired. Spock, still in pain and feeling irritable, was most displeased to hear that his two friends had dragged information out of Juno that neither he nor she had been ready to share.

She put a gentle hand on his arm. “Please don’t, Spock. They meant well and they had to find out sooner or later. Honestly, I’m relieved that they know.”

Spock was forced to agree. ”That is true. Very well.”

“They’re so happy for you, love. I couldn’t begrudge them the knowledge. “

“I have no doubt you handled the situation adroitly. And now, _tal-kam,_ you should return to your bed. The new shift will be along within mmm ...”

Human kisses were, he reflected, an agreeable way of not only cutting short a potentially lengthy diatribe but also of improving his mood. He would have to explore the possibilities in great depth. 


	20. The great sickbay escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno wangle an early discharge from sickbay - but was that wise?

"I brought a competition entry for you to listen to, sir," Juno said to Spock later that morning, setting a portable speaker on the cabinet beside his bed. He nodded and motioned for her to switch it on.  
  
McCoy swooped in and snatched up the speaker. "Oh no you don't!"  
  
Juno did a rather good job, she thought later, of keeping a straight face. McCoy, of course, had acted exactly as expected.  
  
"Doctor McCoy, I must protest," Spock said, eyebrows almost disappearing under the thick fringe of hair hanging over his forehead. “Kindly detach yourself from that device.” He held his hand out emphatically, waiting.  
  
"Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” the doctor yelled, brandishing the unfortunate speaker. ”Get this damned thing out of my hospital! I've got sick people here who would like to recover in peace!"  
  
“You are making more noise and disturbing more people than the speaker,” Spock pointed out accurately. “Their recovery will not be aided by this commotion.”  
  
McCoy shook a finger at Spock. "And why are you working? You broke your arm two days ago and you should be off for at least a week."  
  
Spock was unimpressed. "This is important, and we are under pressure of time. I remind you that Starfleet has endorsed this assignment."  
  
"Oh, Lord," the doctor groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I can't have that dreadful noise in here, this is supposed to be a place of healing. What the hell kind of competition is that anyway? Who can melt people's brains the quickest?"  
  
"It is physically impossible to melt a brain and I'm surprised, Doctor, that you -"  
  
"Aaagh!" McCoy flapped a hand at the Vulcan. "You're sounding better already, Spock. Would further recovery in your quarters suffice?"  
  
An eyebrow ascended. "That would be acceptable."  
  
"Go on, take it away. You're discharged, on condition that you rest for another two days at least. No shifts! That goes for you too, Lieutenant. I know that anything more will be too much to hope for. And I want to see you, Mr Spock, for a check-up in three days."  
  
In the corridor, Spock turned to Juno. "That was very neatly done, Lieutenant."  
  
"Thank you, sir. I had a good teacher."

It was the first time she'd set foot in Spock's quarters. Never would she have thought that his preference was for scarlet coloured drapes and dramatic, yet tasteful cultural items.  
  
He was interested in weapons and had several displayed on his walls. A large gryphon-looking statue against the wall held a softly glowing bowl which looked perfect for incense.  
  
There was also an assortment of decorative items and other Vulcan artefacts, all of which established Spock as a man of refined cultural taste.  
  
It was what she assumed to be a very Vulcan habitat.  
  
But the Vulcan to whom it belonged was stiffly lowering himself into a chair. He was still pale, and looked tired. Juno swiftly took charge.  
  
"Into bed with you, Spock. No, you may not catch up on your messages, they can wait. Doctor McCoy will put me on report if I let you work while you're on medical recovery. Come on, lift those arms, love, I know it's still very sore but let's take this shirt off. I promised to rub your back, do you remember? Oh, now you get into bed quickly enough ..."  
  
Eventually they were settled under the covers with Juno leaning against the headboard and Spock lying on his side, head comfortably on a pillow on her lap, dozing. She had a leg hooked behind his knees and he had a hand on her thigh. His damaged arm, a bruised patchwork of yellow and green, was cushioned on a folded towel.  
  
Juno had brought a small vial of oil with her, carrying it in her hand. By now it was warm and aromatic, readily releasing its spicy aroma which she’d obtained from the organic chemistry lab. A colleague there, grateful for the dainty musical piece that she'd written for his girlfriend, had been only too happy to assist and had formulated the fragrance to her specifications. It reminded her of Spock.  
  
She applied some of the amber liquid to the bare skin of Spock's lower back and began to massage the tense muscles in slow, firm circles. It took a long time for the tightness to ease.  
  
"Thank you, _tal-kam_," her lover eventually murmured in a sleepy voice muffled by the pillow. "Most agreeable..."  
  
Her persistence was paying off. Incomplete sentences were a sure sign that he was thoroughly relaxed. Juno, too, was starting to feel drowsy, lulled by the repetitive, soothing motion of the massage. It was a good thing, she thought, that she hadn't told her roommate she'd been discharged. There was no way she was leaving this room for a while.

Spock was awake when Kirk popped his head in later, checking up on both patients.  
  
Juno had finally succumbed to the hypnotic effects of the massage. The Vulcan was stretched out beside her, head propped up on his good arm, watching her sleep while playing with a lock of her hair.  
  
"Everything all right?" the captain asked anxiously.  
  
Spock nodded. "Thank you, Jim. I believe we are much improved."  
  
It was odd hearing Spock answer in the plural, but that was how things were now. No longer one, but two.  
  
"How're you feeling?"  
  
"Tired, but well enough."  
  
"That's good to know. Just please make sure you're well rested before you return to duty. I’m not even sure you two should be here and not still in sickbay.”  
  
"Jim, the competition -"  
  
"Has been put on hold for a short time, meaning you have a couple of days off. I expect you to use them wisely.”  
  
Spock opened his mouth. Kirk was ready for him. “I'm serious, mister. I don't want to see you back at work before McCoy has given you the all clear. I'll make that an order if I have to.”  
  
For once, his normally stubborn first officer didn't protest.  
  
Kirk backed out quietly, promising himself that he would stop fussing over Spock. That was something he had to learn to delegate partly to Juno. But in reality he knew he now had another soul to take special care of. Because Juno was important to Spock she was important to him too, and to Bones.  
  
He shook his head wryly and smiled.


	21. Is this love that I'm feeling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope, it wasn't a good idea (see previous chapter). But there are more developments in the relationship. Minor fluff alert!

In the morning Spock awoke at his habitual time, one hour before the start of alpha shift. He had half woken twice during the night, unaccustomed to sharing his bed with another, but the feel of Juno nestled against his chest was enough to send him happily back to sleep straight away. 

He was tempted to rise quietly and do some work, but decided to yield to the logic of the situation and take at least one day of actual sick leave. He owed Doctor McCoy that much, and it wasn't often that his day was wholly unplanned. Leisure days, for him, were invariably dedicated to reading journals or catching up on meditation, or working on private projects; today, he determined, he would rest as per doctor's - and captain's - orders. 

He knew Juno had wakened when a feeling of intense happiness pervaded his consciousness. 

"My lovely Vulcan," she murmured, snuggling back against him. This was simply the best feeling, waking up in his bed, cuddled up to him, soaking up the heat of his skin. 

Then she caught sight of his injured arm draped over her waist, the hand latched fast to her own wrist. It looked like someone had painted a camouflage pattern of vivid green and yellow bruises, and the scar where McCoy had operated to piece the bone back together was faint but visible, a thin raised green line across his skin. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. 

Spock realised just before the floodgates opened what was happening, and he was in time to raise some of his mental shields, but deliberately not all of them. If they were going to be together he had to walk willingly in Juno's emotional landscape and he wanted to feel the pain that he knew she was going through for him, for Spock. 

The surge of grief and fright caught her unawares. It washed over her from head to toe, completely smothering her, and she struggled in Spock's arms to break free, gasping and whimpering in terror. He let her tear herself away but followed her, quickly grasping her shoulders and holding her with immovable Vulcan strength lest she hurt herself in her panic. 

"Hush, _tal-kam_, hush," he soothed, his own eyes burning, as she sobbed in his arms. "It is well. I am recovering. Hush now." 

Juno's anguish almost prostrated them both. It was a difficult few minutes. Spock brought them out of it gradually, carefully re-establishing all his controls and allowing her to draw strength from him. No matter how irrational and illogical it was to cry over events that one could not change, he understood the principle of post-traumatic shock and thought perhaps that they had manoeuvred Doctor McCoy into discharging them both too soon. He would not have succumbed to her panic attack had he been in peak physical and mental health. But he was grateful to have been able to help her through it. 

"That's it, brave one," he encouraged. "It is well." 

Then a new element, which he was only able to discern once her emotions had settled into some kind of stability, entered the picture. Juno was not only suffering from delayed shock. She was also so distraught because she had feared for his safety. She had thought for an instant, on the day of the incident, that she’d lost him. And the reason this frightened her so was ... because she loved him. 

This was certainly not undesirable, he realised. Nor was it unexpected. Matters had been moving in that direction. 

"_Tal-__kam_, don't cry. I am here, with you. I am not going away. And I cherish you too." Spock proceeded to amaze himself by saying the words with ease and honesty, and the speaking of them was not as difficult or awkward as he’d anticipated. 

That got her attention. 

"You're not just s-saying that?" she sniffled. 

"Juno." That no-nonsense tone again. "We have had this conversation before. I said it because that is how I feel. Vulcans cannot lie." 

She chuckled then, as he intended, because she knew they could evade, avoid, omit, mislead, obfuscate, divert, and also deflect. 

"Come back to bed." Spock kissed her temple. "We are not ready to get up yet. If Doctor McCoy had just been here I have no doubt he would have rushed us both straight back into sickbay." 

They tumbled onto the bed. Spock arranged himself along the curve of Juno's back, tucking his knees in behind hers and resting a hand on one shapely hip. He pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck and breathed in the fruity scent of her hair. They lay still, contemplating and exploring the new feeling of loving and being loved. 

"Juno." 

"Spock?" 

"Now that our feelings for each other have evolved, I wish you to know that I am not well versed in the human expressions of love." 

As always, he was honest and unafraid in admitting his shortcomings. Juno loved him more for it. She pressed back against him to let him know that she was undaunted. 

"I don't expect you to be, darling." 

"Will this not cause problems?" Spock was thinking of Leila, and her sadness and frustration at his inability - or was it unwillingness? - to express the way he felt. 

"Not for me. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the most demonstrative when it comes to flowery words either. I never have been. Just another factor of my personality, I guess." 

"With rare exceptions, I have become very fond of your personality." 

Juno blushed at the brutal honesty, but Spock was not given to mincing his words and anyway, it was true. There were aspects of herself that she needed to work on. 

She took his hand and raised it to her lips. "I'm thankful for that. And I’m content to have your love just as it is, because I know it's a rare and precious gift.” 

It had taken a while to reach this point of certainty. Spock felt grateful for and delighted with her acceptance of him. Others had not been so accepting – and they belonged to the past. 

He tried to snuggle closer to her, and found that it wasn’t possible. 

“I expect only that which you are able to give, Spock." 

“That is your gift to me.” Strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her as if they would never let her go. "I do not have the facility with such words that you do,” he murmured into her ear. ”But I will say this - of all the beings that inhabit this galaxy, you are the one to whom I have chosen to give my body, my heart and my love." 

He sensed the rush of emotion and this time was prepared for it. Juno said reproachfully, in a wobbly voice, "You lied when you said you don't have the facility for tender words." 

She felt him smile into the back of her neck. "Vulcans cannot lie." 

"Oh no?" 

"_Ashayam_." Before she could ask, he said, "It means 'beloved'." 


	22. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on aboard the Enterprise. The Kirk Diversion is invented.

As expected, Kirk had postponed Juno's performance appraisal, rescheduling it for after the end of the competition. "You never know what else may happen," he had told her and Spock, "and let's not put more pressure on ourselves than we already have. Is that all right with both of you?"

They had concurred. He had then proceeded to have The Talk with them, so that it could go on record that nobody had overlooked or was unaware of the regulations regarding fraternisation. It had been a lot less awkward than any of them had been expecting, mainly because of the captain's sympathetic and encouraging attitude.

He was genuinely, if still cautiously, thrilled for his best friend, and it made all the difference. It also helped that he knew, absolutely knew, that such a relationship would have no detrimental effect on Spock's work persona, as Juno had already experienced so acutely.

It did give him something to think about in that, should Juno's performance appraisal not be good enough for him to offer her a permanent position, it would be devastating to have to tell them. But from what Spock, who was not prone to hyperbole, had been telling him all along, she was good enough.

  
  
Now that Kirk and McCoy were in on the secret, Spock had given Juno access to his quarters, and informed them both of such. The captain would be less likely to burst in if he thought he might be disturbing intimate activities, and if it was an emergency nobody would care.

Kirk had gallantly offered to assist by letting Juno enter Spock's cabin via his own, if there were other crewmembers in the corridor. He was known to have an eye for a pretty woman and was willing to leverage his reputation for the sake of his Vulcan friend. If the crew thought Kirk was interested in Juno, that was fine. As long as Spock could work on this developing relationship in peace, for however long that peace lasted.

McCoy had not exaggerated in describing Kirk's and Spock's loyalty and protectiveness towards each other. They had a unique relationship forged in hardship, battle, shared responsibility, genuine liking and respect, and a willingness to accept each other's differences and use them as strengths rather than weaknesses.

"I feel almost like an intruder," Juno had said once to the doctor.

He had scoffed good-naturedly. "My dear girl, Spock has let you in - or should I say, they have let you in. No more needs to be said. Believe me, it's a pleasure for me and Jim to see Spock getting the chance to grow as a person and as a man, and finding some joy in the process. God knows his life is challenging enough, by choice and by culture."

Fortunately the corridors around the senior officers' quarters were not as well patronised as those in other parts of the ship, especially now that many crew members were on shore leave – safely on the other side of the planet – and the Kirk Diversion was not often needed.

The first time Spock came in, tired from a day on the bridge and a long stint in the physics lab afterwards, and found Juno dozing on his bed, he simply lay down beside her, wrapped himself around her like a cat, and went to sleep.

Some time later she woke and felt his warmth and the satisfying pressure of his body immediately.

Then she noticed the arm flung over her hips, still clothed in its commander's stripes. Tutting to herself, she set about getting him undressed and covered with a warm blanket. Spock, who was quite thoroughly awake during the process, didn't let on because it was too enjoyable being rolled about, fussed over, and tucked in. His poker face had to work hard. He also had to focus sharply on keeping the erection down that threatened to give him away, but promised himself that he would make up for it in the morning.


	23. Let the music play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a short break, the Gammarami music competition resumes.

Meanwhile the music competition had recommenced. It progressed without incident through the two preliminary rounds, and then the semi-final was around the corner.

The absence of drama was no reason to rejoice: the closer they came to the end of the competition the greater the chance, they all knew, that Smoil would return. He had gone to ground after being interrogated by the academy council. One day he was at his job, the next he was gone and had not been seen since. During the investigation that followed the chandelier incident several people claimed to have seen Smoil climbing out of the roof’s hatchway immediately after the deadly disaster. It was accepted that he was the responsible party, and with blood on his hands, was now on the run.

But his retribution was not complete, and with every day that passed without a sign of him, the probability increased that he would strike, and soon.

Culturally, the competition was one of the big events of the year and while it was not unheard of for there to be disagreements and tension, particularly over choosing the winner, it was a national embarrassment that this edition was dogged by such scandal. Unable to get over the shame, Maestro Matin apologised to Kirk and his officers every time he saw them.

The show had to go on, and it did. Advancing through the early stages was easy. The seven semi-finalists were also the only seven entrants, and they would doubtless be the seven finalists as well. It was a strange, uncompetitive format.

“Why don’t they just go straight to the final?” Juno wondered. “In every early round it’s the same music and the same performers. I don’t get it.”

Spock had given it some thought. “My theory is two-fold. Firstly, that the complexity of the music necessitates repeated listening to each piece. Secondly, that it is also targeted at motivating the public to get involved. If the competition were over in one stage the organisers couldn’t use it to drum up as much public support or interest.”

“That makes sense.”

The small number of entrants made the job of choosing the semi-finalists, and finalists, for that matter, that much easier, all admitted, but eventually a single winner would have to be named - a much harder task.

It was like this every year, Rosanna told Juno. A handful of people entered, who were almost guaranteed advancement to the later rounds because nobody could bear to kick any of them out, but choosing just one winner was an agonising process.

"That's why we invited the Enterprise and Starfleet as guest judges. We hoped you, as objective outsiders, would be able to advise us and make our work easier."

So far, since there was no actual choosing to be done until the very end, Starfleet had not had the chance to shine at this task.

"This is one of the more unusual competitions I've been involved in," Kirk mused to McCoy, as they strolled down the corridor one evening after dinner. "Murderous judges, appalling music, Spock and Juno, it's crazy."


	24. Muddying the waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock finds another way to amuse himself.

By now Juno had let it be assumed that she was involved with someone, and that Tamura shouldn't be surprised if she didn't always return to the quarters they shared. Initially Tamura asked no questions; on-board relationships were common, even expected.

Curiosity finally got the better of her. "It’s the captain, right?" she asked one morning.

"What makes you say that?" Juno's surprise was genuine, which only added to the ruse.

Tamura waved a finger at her. "Don't be coy, Juno. Janice Rand saw you going into the captain's quarters one morning when neither of you were on duty, and we all know what he's like."

Well, at least the Kirk Diversion was a success. Juno found it safest to neither confirm nor deny the speculation, a tactic with which Spock agreed.

The fact that he and Juno were working flawlessly together these days, and very often spending long hours in his office, surprised nobody. They all put it down to the traumatic incident that could have been deadly for either or both, surmising that perhaps the two had realised there were better things to do in life than bicker like children. There was important work to be done, while the ship was stationed at Gammarami.

It was hard - very hard - to keep their relationship under wraps. Juno did her best to emulate Spock in keeping work and personal life separated, but when the two were in fact bound together it was easier said than done. She found that by pretending during working hours that Spock was merely her superior officer, she could often get away with the illusion for hours at a time. This was a valuable technique which only worked, however, when he was not in the room.

To help her manage her double-sided relationship with him, the Vulcan had taught her some basic meditation techniques for emotional control. Juno found them difficult to master, although Spock assured her that these were of kindergarten level - it evoked an image she found oddly endearing, of little Vulcans in sombre rows practicing their meditation. Still, she found that even a partial mastery helped her to keep some emotions hidden during working hours and to stay focused on their work.

The first time Spock joined her in the mess hall for dinner there was a collective stir that rippled through the room. He was an infrequent customer in the crew's mess, preferring to take his meals in the senior officers' dining room or his office or quarters, or sitting with Kirk and McCoy if they dined with the rest of the crew.

"May I join you, Lieutenant?"

His cocoa-brown eyes were warm with enjoyment and the dimple flickered into his cheek for an instant.

"I would be delighted, Commander." She matched his formality word for bemused word.

Spock serenely took his seat at the table, placing in front of him a large leafy salad, a bowl of shredded carrots, a few slices of cheese, and a cup of viscous pink liquid which was probably plomeek juice.

"Everybody's looking at us, Spock," Juno muttered, stabbing at a potato. "What are you doing?"

Spock aligned his knife and fork precisely next to the salad bowl and delicately shook out a napkin. Then he sipped his juice. "The term, I believe, is 'muddying the waters'. Most descriptive."

"What waters are we muddying?"

They were speaking too softly to be overheard, and eventually the curiosity died down and the normal chatter started up again, though many eyes still lingered on the pair.

"There is a quite baseless rumour that you are, shall we say, involved with the captain."

She nodded. "I had heard that one, yes."

"So my intention now is to foil that rumour by giving the crew another, more factual aspect to consider."

Juno lowered her eyelashes demurely. "Are you jealous, my toothsome Vulcan?"

"Maybe." He tossed the carrots into his salad and attacked it as though it were responsible for the rumour. "I - yes."

"Illogically so, because I love you."

He looked up at her without raising his head. It was one of the many Spock mannerisms that she adored. "I know."

She smiled sweetly at him, and the tenderness in his answering gaze was not lost on a few observant souls. "But for the sake of accuracy and possibly your reputation, you would prefer it if I were identified with the correct partner i.e. you?"

"I would, my cherished one."

"So no more cloaking and daggering?"

Now there was a further hint of dimple. "On the contrary. We could simply disclose the status quo, but letting the truth reveal itself gradually is more entertaining, don't you think?"

Vulcans. Just when you thought you understood them.


	25. An effective way of raising morale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock, the director of events, is having fun.

Spock was enjoying the scheme so much that he persuaded Kirk to join him and Juno in the crew's mess, just to get people scratching their heads, and added a new dimension by bringing Doctor McCoy into play once or twice. Kirk and McCoy were happy to assist, although like Juno they also wondered why things had to be so complicated.

"I have noted that morale is increasing slightly," Spock reported to Kirk at their next weekly status meeting. "The associational readings are at an average high for the last three months, and average response times are two point one percent higher than they were three months ago. Furthermore, Lieutenant Tanzer has noted a larger attendance at this week's quiz evening than in the previous six weeks."

The captain was studying a 3D chessboard holding a game that had been in progress for three days. "To what do you attribute this?"

Spock sat back in his chair, pressing his fingers together. "I have been reliably informed that the crew are keen to know about the Gammarami situation, because Juno and I have inadvertently raised awareness and interest through our disagreements on the matter. Hence there is a lot of discussion about our visit here.” He tilted his head as a thought struck him. “We might organise an evening of Gammarami music for everyone still on board, Jim - it would no doubt be well attended."

His enthusiasm was endearing, but Kirk wasn't so sure. If that dreadful noise that passed as music made him feel ill, it would have the same effect on many crew members, and McCoy wouldn't thank him for being responsible for a stampede to sickbay. However, he kept his reservations to himself, resolving to act on them only if Spock really went ahead with the crazy idea.

"I believe I'm having an affair with Juno. You know about this?"

"I had heard of it, but I didn't believe it."

The captain chuckled. "You think maybe that rumour has also got the crew going?"

"Undoubtedly, Jim. I have found that for humans, curiosity about one's shipmates is a strong source of camaraderie, not least because it gets people talking. By the way, I wish to thank you again for acting as a decoy for me and Juno. We are - I am deeply appreciative."

Kirk beamed, his eyes warm. "Spock, you know I'm glad to be able to help. You two deserve the best chance you can get."

Spock gave Kirk that look of fond regard that the captain treasured so much.

"But keeping the crew guessing with this relationship thing? It's an odd way you've got of raising morale, Spock." The captain moved a knight across to an adjacent board.

"It is effective, though. Check."  
  


"Juno," Tamura said, "the new rumour is that you and Spock are an item. Damn, girl, but you do get around."

Juno stifled a grin. "Really, Keiko? Me and Spock? I'm flattered."

"It's not true then? They say he goes all mushy when he looks at you."

"Of course it's true. Who's they?"

"Everybody. Well, a lot of people. Some people. Okay, a few. They were in the mess hall the other day when he sat with you and I promise you, Juno, it's no lie, they said he was practically drooling when he looked at you.” She paused in mid-sip of hot chocolate. “Wait, did you say it's true?"

The image of a slobbering, love-struck Spock popped into Juno's mind. She tried not to giggle but a little wheeze slipped out and then she couldn't stop herself. Doubled over with mirth, she tried to get to the bed, weakly reaching out her hand like a person seeking a life-line. Eventually she sank to the deck and wept with laughter while Tamura watched, chuckling more at Juno than knowing why she was laughing in the first place.

Eyes streaming, face red, Juno finally staggered to her feet.

"So I'm guessing it's a ridiculous idea then?"

"Not at all, friend. It's true. We've been together for a few weeks now, since just before that incident on Gammarami, when he got injured."

Tamura looked suspicious. "Why were you laughing then? I mean you're right, it does seem improbable, you and Spock."

Juno was insulted. "Morris to Spock," she snapped, flipping open her communicator.

"Spock here," he answered straight away.

"Mr Spock, would you mind joining me in my quarters, if you can?"

"I shall be there presently."

Not many people could get the first officer to immediately come to their quarters merely by asking. Tamura was beginning to look shell-shocked. "I think you're telling the truth."

"Wait."  


Spock came in a while later. Both junior officers jumped to their feet but he waved them back down. "Can I be of assistance?"

"You certainly can," Juno said. "I'm trying to convince Keiko here that you and I ... we ..."

Spock looked magnificently smug. He turned to Tamura, who was struggling to grasp the reality of the illustrious Vulcan commander as large as life in her room.

"Greetings, Yeoman. Indeed, the veracity of the lieutenant's assertion should not be in question," he confirmed, reaching out to briefly hook his index finger around Juno's little finger and squeeze it.

Tamura was dumb-struck. Spock inclined his head, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, and left the room.

"Make of that what you will, friend." With a matching smirk, Juno followed him. 


	26. My mind to your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock takes precautions in case of a stormy end to the music competition.

"So now it's not only us four that know."

They were cuddling on the couch in Spock's office, taking a break from analysing a particularly strident piece of music that the other judges were favouring as a potential winner. To Spock it sounded like all the le-matyas on Vulcan had come together for a mating ritual and were trying to out-screech each other. He liked it, and also thought it had definite winning potential.

He paused in his scrutiny of the delicate skin and pattern of blood vessels on the inside of Juno's wrist. "This is one of the permutations I had anticipated. With five people knowing, the odds of the knowledge spreading rapidly have increased to 33 point eight percent."

"You've given this some thought."

"A significant amount. The question now is, will Tamura be believed? We may need to assist her."

"We?"

"You and me." He touched the tip of his tongue to the pulse point, feeling the steady beat of the organ where humans once believed love resided. How illogical.

"This is like a big experiment to you," Juno snapped before she could stop herself.

Spock looked affronted. His eyebrows shot up and disappeared under the glossy, slightly ruffled fringe of hair. Juno immediately regretted putting a damper on the enjoyment he'd been having with the intricate choreography of their relationship reveal.

"I'm sorry, love," she apologised, cupping a sculpted Vulcan cheekbone in her hand. Ever forgiving, Spock turned his mouth to the hand and kissed it. "I'm grumpy and tired and worried about the competition. We haven't seen the last of Smoil."

"I agree, _ashayam_. The question is not if he will strike again, but when? We must trust that Maestro Matin and the rest of the organising committee are vigilant and have deployed enough security to assure the safety of all participants."

"I don't like the situation at all. It makes me edgy and nervous and I'm taking it out on you." She smoothed his hair into place.

"If your words affect me, it will not be for long. I will not take offence."

That look of irritation on his face a few moments ago told a different story, but Juno let it go, resolving to do better next time.

Spock looked at her thoughtfully. "Have you ever experienced a mind meld?"

"Never."

"I have given you my body, my heart and my love. Now I would give you my mind, if I may.”

"Will it hurt?" Her voice betrayed her apprehension. 

Spock took her hands reassuringly. "No, it will not. On the contrary, I believe it will be a pleasurable experience for you."

"Do it then, Spock. I trust you."

He disengaged himself, reached over to switch off the music, and took up a sitting position facing her, arranging his long legs around her and indicating that she should do the same. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, preparing mentally.

One hand reached for her face. The fingers arranged themselves over the psionic points, and she felt a warmth that wasn't only from his skin.

The room grew quiet, as if the sound had been physically sucked from it. She heard his steady breathing and her nervous breaths, and nothing else. 

"My mind to your mind." His other hand mirrored the first one's position. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

A slight pressure on the side of her head, but inside her brain, and then a light burst into life and she knew it was him.

“Our thoughts are becoming one,” he whispered.

It was like having a film projected onto a pall of smoke inside her head. Spock's top-level thoughts were there but as a series of impressions and feelings, swirling and fluctuating. She knew his regard for all forms of life, his dedication and commitment to the career he had chosen, his desire to always know more, his poignant awareness that even his huge intellect could never know everything, his pride in reaching ever new heights of accomplishment.

His relationship with Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy was a revelation, as was the knowledge that each of them contributed to the trio in a unique way that neither of the others could. Mind, heart and soul - none of them were complete without the others.

The essence of Spock was reflected in his love for her; it glittered like a rare crystal, strong and yet fragile, transparent and pure, orderly and structured on the outside but coruscating with inner fire.

She wondered how hers looked to him - probably like a half-knitted pullover, with strands sticking out haphazardly. She had no idea how this worked, but she tried to project a well-behaved stream of love towards him. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see him smile.

Spock did not allow the meld to go on for too long. There would be plenty of time in days to come. He had another more pressing reason for melding with her.

He withdrew carefully. He wasn't surprised to discover that he was hard, or that Juno's eyes were bright with tears. A mind meld was an intense experience, especially with an intimate partner. And especially the first time.

No words were needed. He simply pulled her into his lap, slipped into her and rocked them both to a gentle orgasm. Just before the moment of climax he opened the mind link that he had placed during the meld and allowed their consciousnesses to merge, two streams of water coming together into a bubbling pool of sensation.

It was more than an echo of what each was feeling - it was an amplification. When the orgasm took them, both cried out with the intensity of experiencing the other one's release.

They held tightly to each other, nuzzling skin, breathing hard, remembering.

"Oh my God, Spock. How could I feel you coming too? What was that?"

He tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear, and dimpled sweetly. "A mind link that I have deliberately set in place. Your very valid concern about the situation and its possible danger prompted this measure. It will allow us to communicate over short distances without needing contact."

"So that was your ulterior motive."

"Not ulterior, _ashayam_. I would have mind-linked with you regardless, perhaps just not at this very moment. But we must be prepared for any eventuality so I hastened my intention."

"My beautiful, talented Vulcan, is there anything you can't do?"

Spock ran two fingers down the side of her face. Then he shifted uncomfortably. "I am losing feeling in my legs. Let us rise and get cleaned up. I wish to retire to bed. A mind meld followed immediately by intimate activity is taxing even for a Vulcan."  


Later, as they snuggled under the covers of Spock's bed, he said, "There was another reason for the mind meld."

"No doubt a very logical reason."

"So that I could always be close to you."

"Ah, not so logical by your standards, my love, but it works perfectly for me. And you were right - it was a very pleasurable experience."


	27. Why does it have to be so complicated?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock explains his reasons for not coming clean about Juno.

Spock was correct in his concern that nobody would believe Tamura. The yeoman complained to Juno that some colleagues gave her pitying looks, some laughed behind her back, and some laughed to her face.

"That'll teach you to gossip," Juno said sternly.

Tamura spread her arms plaintively. "Can't you do something? Like get him to passionately kiss you in the corridor?"

Juno laughed at the idea of Spock being so blatant. "Sorry, friend, this is all part of Spock's plan. He's directing this situation like an artiste. A very subtle artiste." She shook her head. "Kissing in the corridor is akin to having wild Vulcan sex on one of the mess hall tables. It won't happen."

"But why does this all have to be so complicated?" Tamura wanted to know.

"Ask Spock."

The Vulcan in question buzzed their quarters just at that moment, and they let him in. He touched Juno's cheek and greeted Tamura cordially. The yeoman was still getting used to the idea of Spock and Juno together, but she found it rather cute to see him behaving affectionately, albeit in very small ways. He was tremendously restrained in front of everyone except Juno, even Kirk and McCoy, but his feelings were obvious to those in the know.

Juno, too, was adoring the idea that he wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to make these small gestures of affection in front of people he trusted. Tamura was included only because she was Juno's roommate, and Juno trusted her.

"Keiko wanted to ask you something," Juno said, as Tamura waved her hands behind Spock's back and made a slashing motion across her throat.

She dropped her arms hastily as he turned, looking at her inquiringly.

How did you ask this kind of question of the first officer? "Oh, um, sir, I was wondering why your, er, relationship situation had to be so -"

"Complicated." Juno finished. She joined Tamura on the bed and they looked at Spock expectantly.

"Ah," he said, taking a seat at the desk and adopting his favoured position for hypothesising, elbows on the table, fingertips pressed together, eyebrows in a slight frown. "Well, the rationale is this: people - that is, humans - will accept a situation more readily if it is not forced upon them. If they have time to assimilate the facts and come to accept them in their own time, it will not cause too much consternation."

Eyebrows raised as if that explained everything, he looked at them sitting together on Tamura's bed.

"But why do you care what people think?"

"Because I am the first officer and a Vulcan, and certain standards of behaviour are expected from me. I cannot be seen to be having a wild, careless liaison with a junior officer, but if the crew is introduced to the idea gradually it will -"

"Look more respectable," Juno finished.

"Yes, quite."  


Tamura was later happy to report that someone had noticed Spock going into Juno's quarters twice in one week. That person immediately came to her as the roommate of the lieutenant in question and the originator of the notion that the two were together. They discussed the matter briefly, and the crew member appeared to take the story a little more seriously this time. She soon scurried off, presumably to spread the word.

"Six people, Spock. Six whole people."

Which means that the odds of the information spreading rapidly are now approaching 38%."

He sounded eminently satisfied.


	28. The danger is at hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smoil reappears, and a turncoat is revealed.

  
The competition was nearing the high point. Meanwhile, reports came in with regularity of sightings of the fugitive Smoil. None of the leads were successful and as long as he was at large safety could not be guaranteed.

On the day before the semi-final the judges convened in a private suite in the cultural complex to discuss the musicians and their entries. The late Wilbur's replacement, a music teacher named Case, had prepared summaries of the accomplishments of the seven semi-finalists, complete with biographies, musical prowess, and family background. He had not been required to do this but it was as much to familiarise himself with the contestants at this late hour as to assist the others in making what was always a difficult decision.

The gathering was held under conditions of complete isolation. There was no communication with anyone outside, and nobody had been allowed to bring any devices. The point was to be able to focus on each entry, giving them all equal consideration with no distractions. They were essentially cut off.

Spock, whose arm had eventually healed to the complete satisfaction of Doctor McCoy, had expressed his concerns to the captain before beaming down. "If Smoil is going to strike, this will be an ideal opportunity. We will be out of touch, unarmed, and unable to protect ourselves."

"Can't you take a phaser, at least?"

"The Gammaramians have made it clear that this will not be permitted."

Kirk, practically crackling with nervous tension, paced the area around Spock's science station. "But the circumstances, Spock! These are not normal circumstances and people are in danger. How can they be so blasé?"

Spock had shared a look of pure frustration with the anxious captain. "We have no jurisdiction, Captain. Gammarami is not a Federation member, and these are not our rules. I fear that we'll have to abide by them."

"If my people are in danger, that's all the jurisdiction I need."

Spock looked intently at him but said nothing. Kirk sighed.

"Will they at least have security in place outside the suite?"

"I did ask. They said they would post a guard."

Everybody on the bridge jumped as Kirk pounded his fist into the nearest console, causing lights to begin flicking haphazardly. Spock quickly shut them off. "'A' guard? One guard? They really don't seem to be taking this very seriously."

"They are, Jim, they are just not coping with the matter. I had thought some time ago that the Enterprise could help with containing any security threats but they have not asked for our help. I believe they are a proud but somewhat indecisive and incompetent people who are unaccustomed to dealing with violent situations, and don't want to be seen to be incapable of keeping law and order or protecting guests to their planet."

Kirk spread his hands out. "But they are incapable, Spock."

"I agree, Captain, and I am aware that you are eager to contribute to managing the situation." The captain smiled - this was Spock's understated way of saying that Kirk was dying to get stuck in and take over. "You might think of sending a security detail down to keep an unobtrusive look out for Smoil."

"Good idea." Kirk looked relieved at the chance to be of use. "All right. Just be careful, Spock." He gripped the Vulcan's shoulder and retreated to the command chair.  


The room was quiet except for the rustling of papers and an occasional cough. A large urn on a serving table gave off the tantalising aroma of herbal tea, and a tray of fruits stood beside it. The judges were perusing the candidates' data files one by one, while the entries of each played in the background. This method helped them to get a all-inclusive view of each entrant. They were on the third one when Zephany picked up something strange.

She had been offered the chance to step down and go into hiding, but she refused partly because she wanted to see the event through to the end, partly because she didn't want to give Smoil the satisfaction of knowing he'd got to her, and partly because if she backed out now it would be a stigma on her name forever. The Gammaramians took their music competition very seriously.

"Colleagues, we may have a situation."

They all looked up. Rosanna took the opportunity to disappear into the bathroom.

"This is the contestant who turned out to be related to Smoil, right?" asked Zephany.

They nodded, listening attentively.

"It says here that the contestant draws a salary from the oldest merchant bank in the province."

"I don't understand," said Case. "So they work for the merchant bank."

"The majority shareholder in that bank is the Na'hoorin clan. It's an old family business. But I know for a fact that one of us belongs to that clan."

"Who?"

"Me." Rosanna stood in the doorway, holding a weapon which was pointed at Zephany.

Immediately there was alarm, but not panic. Spock moved between Rosanna and Juno, while Case and Matin protected Zephany.

"What is the meaning of this?" Matin demanded.

Rosanna gestured with her weapon for the group to sit against the wall. "Shut up, Maestro. All of you, shut up. Get over there."

When the judges had settled in a sullen row along the wall, Rosanna continued. "Did you know that Smoil is my cousin? We're a very close family. We just don't publicise it widely."

"Where did you get the weapon from?" spluttered Matin. "We were all searched as a precaution!"

"Really, Maestro, how difficult did you think it would be to find out the location of this meeting? It took only a few calls. Of course, we had to be in and out quickly but there was more than enough time to plant the weapon."

The door opened at that moment and a skittish-looking man entered the room. His close-set eyes scanned the corridor outside before he closed the door. It was obvious, from the collective gasp of outrage, that the man was not unknown to Matin, Zephany and Case.

"Smoil, I presume," said Spock. "What happened to the guard?"

Smoil removed his hand from his jacket pocket. It held a weapon similar to Rosanna's, but smaller.

"I see," Spock said. "No doubt you have replaced him with an accomplice."

"What do you think you're doing, Smoil?" barked Matin, leaping to his feet. "This is an outrage! You're mad if you think you'll get away -"

Rosanna pointed her weapon at him and fired. The other judges cried out in alarm. No visible ray or beam or projectile shot from it, but Matin fell to the ground, limbs in spasm. He lay still, apart from some residual twitching.

"Fascinating. Some kind of neural disrupter, I gather."

"You gather correctly, Vulcan. Now shut up or you'll get to experience it first-hand."


	29. In the hands of lunatics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The judges are in Smoil's grip. Spock tries to extract information from the villains, which is not a good idea. .

_Juno_

_Spock?_

_It is I_

_How do we get out of this?_

_That is problematic. We have no way of contacting the ship, although I do anticipate some action from the captain in the near future_

_Can we not just overpower them?_

_Were there just one of them I would have done it already. But both are armed. I cannot take a chance when there are others in danger_

_I will gladly help you take them out_

_You are very like the captain in your tendency to turn to physical force. I have it in mind to attempt to make Rosanna turn on Smoil through telepathic manipulation_

_I didn't know you could do that_

_It is not something I like to do. It is also very strenuous mentally_  
  
  
Outwardly, Spock tried to get a sense of what was motivating these people. "What are you trying to achieve with this action?"

Smoil's mouth twisted in a insolent sneer. "Other than Zephany's ruin, nothing less than the complete shutdown of this competition. The stupid thing only attracts a handful of entrants every year. The money spent on it could be used for better purposes, but still they persist."

"If it's so unimportant to you, why were you prepared to cheat to win it?" Spock was speaking quietly, persuasively, trying to draw as much information out of Smoil as he could. He would need it not only for his report to Starfleet but the authorities would also need details to strengthen their case against the two.

"So that it could be exposed for the money gobbler it is. I was going to share everything with the media." As Spock hoped, Smoil was as boastful as other villains he'd encountered. That attribute had proven to be the undoing of many.

The first officer lifted his eyebrow in understanding. "For which you would have been compensated handsomely, no doubt."

"No doubt," Smoil chuckled darkly.

"Your actions are illogical. What purpose could it serve to destroy this initiative? What would you gain other than your own excommunication?"

Smoil gave a bitter laugh that conveyed no humour. "You must not understand the concept of revenge, Vulcan. It's not always logical. But it is satisfying."

"I do understand. I do not condone."

"Luckily nobody needs your approval," Rosanna scoffed.

Spock turned his attention to her. "You have carried out your plan quite thoroughly. I commend you."

"Thank you, I guess. It did all work out rather splendidly, except for today's events. We had planned to strike at the final, but this was an opportunity we couldn't pass up."

Spock nodded, as in agreement, but he was still working to extract as many facts as possible from the criminals. "A perfect deflection, even to the extent of sustaining light injuries in the chandelier incident. Getting all the attention focused on Smoil meant that you, his accomplice, was safe. This was a backup plan all along, I assume, to ensure that your relative won the competition."

Rosanna walked over and suddenly clubbed him viciously on the temple with her weapon. Juno clapped her hand over her mouth to prevent a cry of anguish from escaping. The last thing she wanted was to alert the criminals to her feelings for Spock, and give them something else to use as leverage. It was just as well, she thought, that Rosanna wasn't telepathic, because the hatred that Juno felt for her in that instant would have destroyed her. 

"You talk too much, Vulcan. I said shut up!"

Pressing a hand to his head, Spock glared at her, but subsided. His brown eyes, usually warm and kind, were as hard as bedrock.

His sturdy Vulcan physique had saved him from a fractured skull. The blow had hurt, though, and his bio-control abilities were sending an internal warning signal. 


	30. There's no doctor in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is not well, and the healing trance may not have done enough.

_Are you all right?_

_I have yet to establish that_

_She's hurt you_

_I am concerned that my cognitive functions are temporarily impaired. My telepathic abilities may have been compromised_

_How so? _

_I have a significant headache but more importantly, I cannot call up the disciplines needed to make mental contact with Rosanna. I believe I have a concussion_

_Will rest help?_

_I will try to initiate a healing trance_

_I trust you to do what's best_

_Don't be alarmed if I become unresponsive. In fact, you may use that to our advantage, if you can get me moved to the bed_

_I will_

_You will also have to inflict pain to bring me out of it_

_What!_

_It is necessary. Usually a few blows to the face are enough_

_I will try_

_Brave one_  


Within minutes Spock had slumped over and was looking dreadfully pale, except for the flamboyant green bruise that was spreading over the side of his face.

"What's the matter with him?" Rosanna sneered. "I thought Vulcans were tough."

"You hit him on the head." Juno's voice was acidic. "He's hurt."

"That's too bad." Dismissively, Rosanna waved her disrupter in a circle. "You may have noticed that there's no doctor in the room."

Juno stood, using her height to its full advantage. She folded her arms defiantly and scowled down at Rosanna. "He's a highly regarded Starfleet officer and a valuable hostage, if that's your intention - I advise you not to hasten his death. Can we move him to the bed? It might be better if he's comfortable."

Acknowledging the wisdom of the suggestion, Rosanna shrugged indifferently. "Fine."

Case and Matin carried Spock through to the bedroom, struggling a little under his solid Vulcan weight. Juno sat down beside him and glared at Rosanna.

"I'm going to keep an eye on him," she said, daring the much shorter woman to challenge her.

But Rosanna just turned her back on them and went into the other room. With no weapons, no way to contact the outside world, and no possibility of gaining the upper hand, the two in the room were the least of her worries.

Juno kept her eyes on Spock until she slipped into a light sleep. She awoke a couple of hours later to Spock moving restlessly. She remembered his instructions - "a few blows to the face are usually enough".

Oh shit. Did she have to do this? Gathering her resolve, she stripped one of the pillow covers and bundled it around her fist like a glove. Then, closing her eyes, she hit him as hard as she could, then again, and a third time. The fabric muffled the blows so they sounded like tribbles bouncing on the floor, rather than actual punches. She hoped it wasn't absorbing too much of the impact, but it was vital that Rosanna and Co didn't have any reason to come into the room. They must not find out Spock was conscious.

On the fourth attempt he stopped the blow with his hand, and his eyes fluttered open. "Thank you."

This seemed very extreme. You had to hurt somebody who was trying to heal, so that they could finish healing. And doing this to someone who already had a head injury because of being hit? That was fucking illogical.

But Spock was sitting up, feeling his head gingerly.

"Did it work?" Juno whispered.

"I believe partially, but whether to a sufficient degree remains to be seen. My cognitive functions are still not at optimum level."

She stroked his hair tenderly, and he rested his forehead on his hand and closed his eyes. "Lie down, love. You'll need all your strength."

"An eminently logical suggestion. I shall make the attempt within two hours."


	31. An Enterprising intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock knows his captain well. Kirk can't sit around for a moment longer without doing something.

On the Enterprise, Kirk had been feeling more and more ill at ease with every passing moment. The away team had not checked in, because they couldn't. Nevertheless, he was unable to settle and paced the bridge aimlessly. The crew, feeling his anxiety, were jumpy and nervous.

"I don't like being out of touch with our people on the surface, Scotty," he said to the engineer. "Too many things can go wrong - I'm going to send down the security detail that Spock suggested."

Scott nodded in vigorous agreement, pushing a button on his engineering station. "Aye, with that madman still on the loose, Captain, I wouldna say ye can be too careful. I'll organise it."

"Thank you, Scotty," Kirk said with a grateful pat on Scott's arm. "The problem is that we don't know exactly where the judges are meeting. The whole point is for them to not be disturbed. We do know it's a building in the cultural centre somewhere, so let the team station themselves centrally so they can get to any point in the shortest time."

"Aye, sir."

"Have Doctor McCoy standing by. I hope we won't need his services, but I'm very uncomfortable about this whole situation. And Scotty, please dress the team all as Gammaramians. We need to be discreet."

Like all the senior crew, Scott had absolute faith in and respect for Captain Kirk's intuition. It had saved their individual and collective bacon on more than one occasion. He made the arrangements for the security team without question.

"Ye know what ye're looking for, Galloway - or should I say who ye're looking for?

"Aye, sir. I've circulated the fugitive's likeness to the whole team." Young Lieutenant Galloway had proven to be resourceful and quick-witted on previous security assignments, and Scott had no hesitation in giving him the vital task of getting the landing party back safely.

"Good man. The minute ye get down there, scout around for possible accomplices - but dinna give yerselves away."

"Aye, sir."

"Now go and bring them back."

He beamed the five-man squad down to the cultural complex himself. Galloway reported a short while later that the team was in position and on the lookout for the fugitive-murderer. So far there were no signs of Smoil or anyone who might be in league with him.  


"Sir!" Ensign Rollins ran up to Lieutenant Galloway a while after beaming down.

"Yes, Rollins?"

"Sir, I saw Smoil, the wanted man. He was heading to the south of the plaza. I followed him and he went into a building."

"Show me, Ensign."

Galloway and Rollins crossed the square without appearing too hasty, all the while looking out for signs of the fugitive. They saw none, which meant he was still likely inside.

"He went into that building, sir," Rollins said, pointing to a three-storey structure at the end of a quiet lane leading off the main thoroughfare.

"Was it just him? You didn't see anyone who could be working with him?"

"Negative, sir."

Galloway clapped him on the shoulder. "Good work, Rollins." Flipping open his communicator, he hailed the ship.  


Kirk raced to the transporter room, where a full infiltration team, including the doctor, had been assembled and were waiting to beam down.

"Report," he said to Scott, who was behind the controls again.

"Ensign Rollins saw Smoil enterin' a building, which we have confirmed with the organising committee is where the judges are sequestered. We have reason ta believe the judges are in danger, sir. There might be a hostage situation. The organisers aren't happy wi' us taking action but they have no other suggestions, so they wilna stop us."

"Is Smoil still inside?"

"We believe so, sir."

"You're not sure?"

"He might ha' slipped out in the few minutes when Rollins was alertin' Galloway, but if he's bent on revenge it's unlikely that he'd skip out so quickly."

Kirk rubbed his jaw. "Yes, I agree. Very well, Mr Scott, beam us down."

"Aye, Captain."


	32. The plan comes together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cavalry arrives. Spock and Juno are again working as an effective team.

On the surface, Kirk met up with the scout team. "Good work, gentlemen. Galloway, I want you to lead us to that building, and then you and your team will cover us while we go inside. Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. Our arrival may flush a few termites out of the woodwork."

"Yes, sir."  


As Kirk and his team were making their stealthy way to the building, Spock was preparing to attempt to subvert Rosanna. Normally it would be easy for him to find the optimum location by sense and touch, eventually getting as close to the subject as possible from the other side of the wall or rock face or whatever barrier lay in between.

This time he was hampered by a head injury and a diminution of his telepathic abilities. But still, cool and resolute, he made the best attempt he could. Feeling along the bedroom wall, he determined the best spot from which to launch his attack.

Rosanna felt the suggestion as a tickle in the back of her mind. It grew subtly but steadily, until all she could think about was turning her weapon on Smoil, callously pressing the firing button, and seeing him fall senseless to the floor, limbs twitching uncontrollably.

Juno watched Spock carefully. The Vulcan was clearly in some discomfort, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted. He wouldn't hesitate to use his last iota of strength on this attempt, and she didn't want that. She needed him to be able to defend himself if the need arose, but she didn't dare interfere with his mental struggle.

"What're you doing, Rosanna?"

Rosanna had turned to Smoil. Her eyes were hostile and her disrupter was pointing straight at him

"Rosanna!"

Still she trained the weapon on Smoil. What was she waiting for?

Spock was concentrating so hard that the tendons stood out in his neck like cables, but he couldn't muster the control to make Rosanna follow through, and Smoil took a chance. He slapped Rosanna's arm down and twisted the weapon out of her hand.

The other judges, including a recovered Matin, who for a moment had the opportunity to rush Smoil and take him down while his attention was on Rosanna, had done nothing to help. They really were just as useless as Spock had said, Juno thought, infuriated.

"That damned Vulcan!" the murderer shouted, red-faced and raging. "He's the only one who could be doing this!"

Spock didn't want Smoil to catch him by the wall, in the act, because there was a good chance the man would immediately use the disrupter on him. Then he would be as much use as the Gammaramians to do anything about their predicament. Diving for the bed, he fell onto it just as Smoil stomped in.

The murderer grabbed him by the shirt and shook him. "You! I know it’s you, it can only be you!"

He pulled Spock to his feet and shoved the exhausted Vulcan through the door into the other room. Spock staggered but didn't fall. Juno followed the two men anxiously.

In the meantime, with Spock no longer in contact with her mind, Rosanna had regained her senses and her weapon. Mindful of Juno's cautionary words about his value as a hostage, she didn't immediately blast him into unconsciousness. Instead she pointed the disrupter at the other person who was capable of causing trouble for the conspirators. Her finger hovered above the firing button as she grinned nastily at Juno.

Spock was not about to give up easily. "This illogical plan has scant chance of success, Smoil. I should warn you that I am expecting Captain Kirk to come through that door at any moment."

"You're bluffing."

Spock raised a disdainful eyebrow. "Vulcans never bluff."

It was true. He'd tried to weigh up the odds of Kirk losing patience with the situation and deciding to barge in regardless. The chances were well over 75 percent, but concussion prevented him from calculating a more accurate figure. Knowing the captain as he did, Spock realised that no odds were necessary – it was a virtual certainty.

He appeared calm and in control, but Juno knew the effort it was costing him.

"Nerve pinch the fucker, Spock!" she yelled, as Spock and Smoil circled each other. Spock was by far the stronger, but he was not operating at full capacity and Smoil was armed although nervous, as hesitant as Rosanna to simply shoot the Vulcan down but also unsure of how wise it was to physically engage with him. Spock had in fact been bluffing, or rather, exaggerating as far as his physical condition was concerned, and it kept Smoil at bay for some precious minutes.

But without waiting for combat to be joined, the unsporting Rosanna lost patience, or maybe panicked. She pointed the disrupter at Spock and fired. He dodged but not quickly enough and caught the edge of the invisible beam on his hand. It went numb immediately. He shook it, trying to get feeling back.

Juno saw black and white spots before her eyes as her blood pressure spiked in rage. "That's ENOUGH!" she howled. "I'm tired of him getting hurt because of you!" And she grabbed Rosanna by the wrist and flipped her onto her back, then executed a textbook elbow drop onto the woman's midriff, while Smoil wavered between taking her out and leaving himself open to a nerve pinch or worse, or keeping Spock on the defensive. The other judges gasped, clutching each other's arms. Rosanna choked and curled up in agony. Quick as a Scalosian, Juno grabbed Rosanna's weapon and gave the woman a taste of her own medicine. She flopped around like a stranded eel a few times and then lay still.

Juno levelled the disrupter at Smoil. "I would advise you to give up, Smoil," she said coldly.

Smoil had been following developments out of the corner of his eye, while keeping his weapon aimed warily at Spock. That was the only reason Juno had not yet disrupted the living daylights out of him. Now he whirled to face her, bringing the weapon up quickly. It was a mistake. Spock was quicker, and his good hand clamped with implacable strength on the neck of the murderer, fingers seeking and finding the nerve junctions. Smoil went down like the proverbial ton of dilithium crystals.

The watching judges cried out in relief. They jumped to their feet and crowded around Spock, pulling at his arms, patting him on the back and ruffling his hair. He endured their animated invasion of his personal space, understanding that the judges were expressing their gratitude and respect, but the effort of blocking their emotionalism made him feel sick and uncomfortable, and rapidly sapped his remaining energy reserves.

Juno shooed them away and grasped his arm. "Okay?"

"Affirmative," he replied, although he knew she knew he was still standing only through sheer willpower.  


The team crept up the stairs to the first floor. Scott, being as charming as he could be, had also wheedled the suite number out of the organising committee, and the team were now moments from reaching it.

They had easily dispatched the lookout stationed outside the building, taking him down before he could even squeak a warning. The frustrated captain had shown an indecent amount of glee as he tackled the man and shoved him headfirst into a wall.

That was the only obstacle so far. Either the criminals were counting on the proven Gammaramian apathy, or they were foolishly over-confident, believing themselves to be smarter than the average unimaginative citizen.

Kirk stuck his head around the corner and quickly pulled back.

"One guard, just as we were advised. No sign of anyone else."

"Can we trust the guard, sir?"

"Not a chance."

Again the captain's intuition came to the fore, and the team accepted his judgement without question. He had led them through worse and often the only reason they survived was because of Kirk's instinct for danger.

They were ready for any resistance. When the fake guard saw them and turned to make a dash for the room, three phasers took him down without a sound.

The team could hear raised voices coming from within. Thinking the hostages were in trouble, they burst in to find two bodies, one of them Rosanna, the other presumably Smoil, lying on the floor and Spock being mauled by a gaggle of excited judges. Shocked, Kirk stepped forward but Juno got there first, chasing them away from the Vulcan, who looked terrible.

Security officers immediately rushed to the aid of the judges, while Kirk and McCoy headed for the now thoroughly dishevelled first officer.

"I see you have the situation under control, Mr Spock," Kirk said dubiously, looking him up and down.

Suddenly conscious of his outrageous lack of decorum, Spock pulled himself upright with difficulty and tried to smooth his hair with one hand and straighten his uniform with the other. "I had help, Captain," he said, and then his knees buckled and he would have slumped to the floor if Kirk and Juno had not grabbed him.

"Bones?"

McCoy swiftly scanned the sagging Vulcan. "Physical and mental exhaustion, partially healed concussion, extensive contusion over the right side of the face, some non-permanent nerve damage in the fingers of the left hand - my God, man, is a mere broken arm not enough for you? You were fine this morning. How does a person get into this state in just a few hours?"


	33. Sickbay's main attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy has Spock back in his care and this time there won't be any premature escapes.

An hour later, Spock was once again ensconced in a sickbay bed.

"You gotta stop this, Spock," McCoy said, waving a finger like a parent to a particularly clumsy child. Kirk and Juno, standing next to him, nodded together in agreement.

"You speak as though getting injured is a choice I consciously make, Doctor. I assure you, it is not." He was drowsy from his exertions as well as the treatment and medication, and his words didn't carry their normal sting. He sounded as shattered as he felt. He didn't look great, either, with the bruise on the side of his head spreading to give him a spectacular green eye.

McCoy grinned. "Don't fight logic, Spock."

The Vulcan frowned, lifted an eyebrow just halfway, and lay back against the pillows. Kirk and McCoy shared a look, the captain looking concerned, the doctor reassuring.

"If you'd waited for me, Spock, you wouldn't be in this situation," Kirk chided.

"Captain, although I did indeed surmise that you would take precipitative action in the matter, waiting for you would not have prevented Rosanna from striking me. That was a consequence of my attempts to glean some background information from the criminals.”

The captain smiled dotingly at his first officer. "I know, Spock. I'm just glad you're more or less in one piece. You did very well down there."

"All right, all right, enough chatter, let him get some rest now," McCoy said, trying to herd the visitors to the door. "See that he doesn't escape again, Nurse Chapel. This time his ass is mine."

Christine Chapel looked at Spock uncompromisingly. "Don't worry, Doctor. Mr Spock is going nowhere."

"And I'm staying as well," Juno declared.

They all stared at her.

Hands on hips, she addressed herself to Spock. "Just so you know, Commander, I'm done with pretending. I don't care who sees what, and I don't care what the odds are of information spreading rapidly, but I'm not moving from this room."

Nobody seemed surprised, except for Chapel, the only one present who was not in on the secret. She looked confused. McCoy pressed her arm. "I'll explain it to you later, Nurse."

Spock tried hard to appear shocked. But the expression on his face was definitely one of agreement. There was a hint of a dimple. Even the corners of his mouth were fighting against his determination not to smile – but since he smiled only for Juno, he simply held it back.

"I think you've just been commanded, Commander," Kirk said. "You may stay for one day, Lieutenant. After that I fear it'll be business as usual with the competition."

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, Jim."  


The source was never identified, but word had now spread quicker than even Spock could have predicted. Foot traffic into and out of sickbay was heavier than normal. "Like a goddamned bar in a space station," McCoy grumbled.

Eventually the doctor had Spock moved to a private room again, and started chasing people away who weren't actually ill or injured, but just wanted to catch a glimpse of the newly outed pair.

"This is all your fault, Spock," he snarled, running a brace of ensigns out the door. "Getting people worked up and curious, playing relationship games, encouraging inquisitive behaviour -"

"Calm yourself, Doctor. There is nothing wrong with inquisitive behaviour. If there were we would still be confined to our native planets and be communicating via carrier pigeon or the local version thereof. The novelty will wear off in, I estimate, some 12 point four hours."

"What, no second decimal place?"

"I am dealing with humans, Doctor. There is a degree of unpredictability."

"I'll say."

The traffic slowed down towards evening. As he went off duty, McCoy said, "The night shift has instructions to give you two some privacy. After evening rounds and dinner, you can engage the opacity screen but if I may be so blunt, please don't make too much noise?"

They both looked scandalised.

"Doctor, I assure you that we shall not," Spock said, pretending he had no idea what McCoy was referring to.

The doctor grinned. "The duty staff also have orders to call me if there are any problems, no matter how late or early it is. Now get some rest, both of you."

He left the room, whistling.


	34. A time of recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno and Spock have some quiet time in sickbay.

The evening activity died down eventually, which was the signal for Juno to maximise the opacity screen on the observation window. The ambient temperature was set slightly cooler than normal, so they could snuggle without overheating. Spock was napping comfortably.

Calling up a book on her data tablet, she reflected that it certainly was handy being involved with the captain's best friend; so many concessions had been granted that she began to feel a little guilty on behalf of all the other patients who had to abide by the rules.

But later when Spock sat up, perched on the edge of the bed, and drew her in to stand between his legs, she forgot to feel guilty and was just grateful for his arms around her.

"I'm fine," she said in response to his light mental probe. "No delayed shock this time. I think I got it all out when I took that bitch Rosanna down."

"I am not an advocate of violence, my brave one, but your actions were most impressive."

"You were pretty damn impressive yourself, Commander," she murmured, kissing the hollow at the base of his throat. She felt his deep sound of pleasure as a vibration against her lips.

"Thank you, _ashayam_. I do feel that I could ultimately have been more effective by simply not provoking the villains -"

Juno placed a finger against his lips. "Spock. You talk too much, love."

Several minutes went by, during which the sighs and moans and murmurings grew more intense.

"I wish to engage in intimate activity with you, but I am still so tired."

She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down. "You lie back, my valiant Vulcan, and let me do the work."

Spock did as he was told. Juno set to work, undressing him slowly and lovingly, stroking his naked skin as it emerged bit by bit. Every sore muscle was carefully rubbed and kneaded. He soaked up the attention, possibly exaggerating some of the soreness although not by much, focusing on the touch of her hands and the love that travelled through the mind link, because he needed her but was too tired to do anything else.

"Are you sure you want to do this, darling? You really need to sleep." 

"Your ministrations are most welcome and appreciated." His voice croaked a little with weariness. "I wish to experience them for as long as I can stay awake. I can promise nothing more."

She hovered over the place where Rosanna had struck him, making noises of outrage over the bruised skin and caressing the tender area gently. Spock lay as still as a stone, eyes closed, uttering small sighs of contentment from time to time. Juno was amazed that he was still conscious, given the day he'd had.

After a lengthy detour at his mouth she turned her attention to his ears. She nipped gently at the points and sucked the lobes, and whispered words of love that made him smile.

When she glanced down his body she saw his penis pulsing and thickened, but it seemed to be struggling as much as its owner to show any further signs of life.

Moving down his neck with tender nips and licks, she arrived at the delicious hollow at the base of his throat where his heartbeat was most tangible. This, too, received much attention in the form of soft kisses.

By now she knew through the mind link and from his steady breathing and the absolute stillness of his body that he was asleep, and had been since she started the journey down his neck. The ministrations were therapeutic for her too, but for the sake of not waking a man who desperately needed to rest, she stopped there and lay down beside him in the narrow bed, placing her hand over his heart in the familiar gesture that tonight signified much more than affection.

She was surprised when even in sleep his hand covered hers as was his wont.

Spock wasn't the only one who needed to rest. Juno had focused all of her emotional energy on him and had simply forgotten that she too had had one hell of a day. Only after a few minutes of lying next to his warm body did she realise how tired she was. And McCoy thought they'd be frisky enough to keep people awake?

In the early hours, though, they were both recovered enough to enjoy some sedate lovemaking, involving no penetration but much use of hands, and by the time the alpha shift arrived, bringing with it Doctor McCoy, the opacity screen was at half strength.

Spock was curled up in bed, respectably dressed in sickbay-issue t-shirt and shorts, and Juno, covered with a spare blanket, was in the chair beside him, sharing his pillow. Both were dozing, so McCoy left them for the moment. There was no rush. This time they would go when he said they could go, he determined.

There were no gawkers. Spock's estimate had been right on the money.


	35. Musical endings and happy beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gammarami music competition at last comes to an end.

The competition had had to be postponed yet again. Maestro Matin was almost prostrate with grovelling and apologies and profuse explanations and assurances that nothing of this nature would happen again. Kirk felt sorry for him, although the assignment had proved to be far more of a nuisance, in many ways, than a boon. The only good thing to come out of it, so far, was the budding romance of the first officer and xeno-musicologist. And possibly a new Federation member.

It took three days for proceedings to get back on track. By then Spock and Juno, as well as the other judges who had been utterly traumatised by their brief spell as hostages, had been deemed fit to resume their duties. McCoy had examined them all thoroughly and given them a clean bill of health.

Kirk was thankful that the ship was at station, giving his first officer the time he needed to heal. Spock had been known to push himself beyond sensible – indeed, logical – limits in times of need, often to the frustration of Doctor McCoy, and while his Vulcan physiology could hold out for much longer than a human’s would, not even he was indestructible. The ship, and its captain, needed Spock to be strong and healthy. 

The semi-final took place, at last, and was broadcast all around the system. There was no change in the line-up of the first two rounds; all the songs the judges heard were the same ones they'd been hearing since the beginning. That was just how it worked.

At the suggestion of the Enterprise officers, for the first time the voting was opened to the public all across the system. As incredible as it was, this had never been done before. It was decided that the judges' votes would contribute 40% and the public votes would contribute 60% to the overall scores.

"Why have they never done it in all the years before?” Kirk asked. “It would have simplified matters and quite possibly saved lives."

"I do not know," Spock replied. "I do not think the Gammaramians know either."

The public voting turned out to be so popular that the competition virtually got a new lease on life. Millions of votes poured in and it was the talk of several planets and the cause of many arguments and fights. The entire society seemed revitalised and interested in more than just the competition. There was a huge demand for information on the judges and contestants, and public sightings of representatives of either group resulted in the kind of excitement that celebrities usually garnered.

Planetary pride and rivalry ran high. The Starfleet crew – Juno and Kirk, especially – took a great deal of personal satisfaction from the knowledge that the competition’s surge in popularity was without doubt driving Smoil and Rosanna, as they languished in their prison cells, to helpless fury.

Three days were allocated for voting, and another two for tallying and checking.

On the night of the announcement of the winner, there was a gala dinner. The Enterprise senior officers, the victorious Starfleet security contingent, and Juno, were guests of honour and were fêted and praised at great length.

Juno's mind was preoccupied for much of the evening with thoughts of how handsome Spock looked in his dress uniform. They all looked resplendent, but he was the most beautiful by far. She was so proud of him and she didn't hesitate to let him know through the mind link, often.

The ecstatic winner was announced, to great fanfare and elation. It was indeed the le-matya one the judges had been favouring for some time; the tune had won the hearts of the majority of voters, although the reason was impossible to deduce. Straight away there was a live performance of the top tune, but Kirk and his officers had come prepared and a few surreptitious jabs with a hypospray took care of any pain.

The last event of the night was the presentation of a special award. Maestro Matin rose and bestowed the nation's highest cultural honour - the Tuneful Order of Gammarami Songsmiths - on Spock.

"You went beyond the call of duty for this competition, Commander Spock, and all of Gammarami and the entire system thanks you."

He pinned the medal to Spock's jacket, and the Vulcan bowed gravely and appreciatively. The room erupted into applause and several news reporters moved closer, taking photos and trying to extract a comment from him. He ignored them and hurried back to his table, where his colleagues welcomed him with cheers and celebration.

The maestro now bounded to the podium and to close out the evening, the orchestra immediately struck up a rendition of the anthem of the United Federation of Planets. Everyone flinched as the first notes rent the air. The Starfleet personnel later agreed that in living memory there had not been a more ghastly version, but they sat through it stoically, trying not to cringe at the high notes, occasionally wincing or grimacing at stabs of pain that penetrated even the deadening effect of the hypospray, and at the end everyone gave Matin and the musicians a standing ovation, mostly out of thankfulness that it was over.

The competition was officially over. Now negotiations to admit Gammarami into the Federation would begin. The planetary council, mightily impressed with the way Kirk and his officers had handled a difficult assignment, had indicated their willingness to enter into talks, and Kirk would now take over while Spock, if he had any say in the matter, would sit at his science console or in the command chair or on the couch in his office, and not go anywhere else for quite a while.


	36. Not quite the same old, same old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on, yet again, but with one slight change.

Meanwhile the entire ship was getting used to the fact that their first officer was finally and openly in a relationship. Many had thought it could never be possible, and a few naysayers were already taking bets on how long it would last. 

Like opponents in a cage, the various parties circled each other warily for a day or two. Juno wasn't sure what to expect from the crew, and they were as unsure what to expect from the couple, but during their first shift together in the communications lab Spock deftly broke the ice with one or two disdainful comments and several raised eyebrows, and Juno replied pertly, and everyone knew that things would be the same as they were before, just with fewer arguments. If they were expecting openly affectionate behaviour they were disappointed, or perhaps relieved.

Juno still got icy stares from the same group of men and women who had treated her as a threat in the beginning. Her attitude was 'tough luck, bitches'.

Even in the mess hall, when they dined there, the conversation hardly died down any more when they entered, either alone or together.

Spock had been right, again - for the most part, the crew seemed to accept their relationship and appreciate that it hadn't been forced on them. In fact, they respected the effort that had been made to ensure a smooth transition.

"Morale is still rising, but it is levelling off," Spock reported at the next weekly status meeting with the captain.

"I think the crew is pleased to see that you're human after all, Spock."

The Vulcan was speechless for a brief moment, then gave Kirk a crushing glare. "Captain, you may be my superior officer but I find it most unseemly that you should resort to childish insults."

Kirk beamed.

The evening after the gala dinner, Juno and Spock were lying face to face, but not touching, on Spock's bed. She had something to share and didn't want him to inadvertently sense it through skin or mental contact before she was ready to say it. It took all of the basic disciplines she had learned to keep it under wraps.

"How was your performance appraisal?"

"Hasn't the captain said anything?" Juno knew Kirk would have shared at least a few words with Spock.

"Only with regard to your work. I asked him not to comment on anything else, because I wanted to hear it from you first. I will discuss any further developments with him in a professional capacity later."

She tucked her hands under her cheek and smiled at him. "That's sweet. Well, it was fine. I'm sure the captain has already told you that he was very happy with my work and your supervision."

"And -"

"And we talked about how recently you seem to have become very accident-prone, but -"

"Juno."

"- we do recommend that you not accept any more invitations to jury duty on music competitions -"

"Juno." There was a hint of dimple now.

She took pity on him, and stroking his cheek, she sent the message through the mind link a second before she said it out loud. "I'm staying."

Spock's coffee-brown eyes lit up. "_Ashayam_." Now he enfolded her in his arms and rolled onto his back. She lay on top of him, caressing his mouth with her own, loving the feel of his hands on her hips and the look of calm happiness on his usually serious features. Her hair hung down around him like a veil. "You did well to withhold it from me. You might at some future point achieve the level of control of Vulcan children -"

She smacked him on the shoulder and he chuckled softly.

"Is it what you wanted to hear?"

"You know it is. And now that you are staying, I would like to invite you to share quarters with me."

"You're asking me to move in with you?"

"I believe I said that."

Holding her firmly to him, he rolled over again to pin her under his body. His momentum took him a little too far, and the pair fell off the bed, with Spock landing on his back, underneath Juno. The surprised 'Oof' that pressed out of him was, she thought, the cutest thing.

"This room, and this bed, is not big enough for two people, darling. Are you all right?"

"I am fine, my cherished one. If it were big enough, would you be willing to share with me?"

"I would," she replied, smoothing his hair away from his forehead so she could kiss it.

"Then I have a suggestion. Actually, it was Jim who suggested it. The room on the other side is vacant. We propose to take down the wall between it and my quarters, thereby doubling the size."

"Remodelling the Enterprise. I like it." Then she looked narrowly at him. "You two have been making plans in advance?"

He didn't deny it, since it was obviously the case. "We surmised that there may be a need for an expansion of my room, so we devised a contingency plan."

Still lying on top of him on the floor, she stretched out and revelled in the sensation of every inch of him pressed against every inch of her. "You are something special, Commander Spock."

They lay like that for some minutes, luxuriating in each other's closeness. Spock wondered absently if this quiet joy, this inner contentment, this sense of perfection in the moment, was how his father felt with his mother. He resolved to ask Sarek the next time they communicated.

"Were it not for the fact that, for the sake of efficiency and friendship, I prefer to still be next door to the captain," he mused, "we could simply move to one of the vacant married quarters."

He said the word 'married' so casually, and Juno knew it meant nothing beyond the mere designation of a living space's purpose, but she still felt a thrill of love and excitement at the thought of adventures to come.

"Keiko will be sad."

"Yeoman Tamura is a faithful friend. Thanks to you, she has become quite sought after at social events, I believe."

"You have to take some credit."

"I neither need to nor want to."

"Spock."

"Juno?"

"How do you want to arrange the room?"

"I will leave that to you, _ashayam_. I am quite sure that you will find the most logical layout." 


	37. Exciting times ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Juno do some redecorating, and contemplate the good times in store.

By the next night the wall had been taken away. The single beds were pushed together to make one roomy double bed in the centre of the far wall. There was a desk, a cupboard and a set of drawers on either side of the cabin, for each of the occupants. The décor was still half Vulcan, half other, but they would sort that out in time. Juno was mentally deciding on where to put her various personal items. Most of her things, she thought, would look just perfect standing among Spock's carefully curated collection of Vulcan artefacts

"Ah love what you've done with the place, Miz Juno," McCoy drawled in an exaggerated southern accent.

He and Kirk were standing inside the door surveying the results of the renovation, which had just been completed. Kirk nodded in approval.

"Thank you, Doctor, and also to you, Captain, for the suggestion of expanding these quarters," Juno said, knowing that Spock wouldn't mind her giving Kirk all the credit. The Vulcan was doing some after-hours work in the astrophysics lab and would only be back much later.

"As long as it's within regulations, I'll do anything for Spock," Kirk said earnestly, and she knew he meant it. "He's not only my right-hand man and a tremendous asset to this ship, but he's my friend."

"And sometimes we simply overlook the regulations," McCoy muttered to no-one in particular.

"What was that, Doctor?"

"I said that leaf simply looks like it needs hydration."

"It's artificial," Juno pointed out.

"Well, exactly."  


Spock came in a few hours later. Juno was in bed reading, holding one of his science blue shirts to her body like a comfort blanket. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

The room was warm and dim, and the winning Gammarami song played softly in the background. Spock's incense burner was wafting a scent of peppery cut grass across the room, using a Vulcan fragrance known as _mat’seh_.

He took a moment to look around the room, and gave a nod of approval that was identical to Kirk's earlier on. "An elegant arrangement."

He bent to kiss her.

"Busy night?"

"Not especially," he answered, "but we have just completed a survey of the Gammarami system and I wished to look at the initial data. It seems that the planets are orbiting in a remarkably uniform pattern, which is inconsistent with Kepler’s laws of planetary motion and the corroborating work done many centuries later by T’Binda and Savaq."

Juno let him talk, listening to his lengthy and enthusiastic lecture although she didn't understand the very technical parts. She loved watching him in this mood, with the light of scientific discovery in his eyes, pacing slowly as he spoke, arms folded thoughtfully, hands occasionally gesturing to illustrate a point. It was his job to get excited about such things, and hers to support him in that.

Eventually, to his own surprise, he ran out of Gammarami news. Quickly he undressed to his t-shirt and briefs and joined her on the bed.

Then he removed the blue shirt she was holding and inserted himself into its place. She laid down her book and folded her arms around him, as he snuggled his head under her chin and stretched his lean body across the covers.

"Thank you for listening. I am aware that it is not your field of expertise or interest."

"But you are, love, and that's enough."

She placed a hand against his head, massaging his forehead gently with the tips of her fingers. For a while there was a blissful silence.

"We need to christen this room."

Spock frowned. "Why would we want to give the room a so-called Christian name?"

"We don't want to do that." Juno chuckled. "It also means to use something for the first time, or carry out an activity for the first time with the item in question."

"Ah." Spock's hands began to wander. "I understand."

"Rest first. You've had a long day. There will be plenty of time later.”

He settled down again, but Juno loved him for his readiness to please her.

"Indeed, _ashayam_.” There was a contented sigh. “We have all the time in the universe ahead of us."  


*the end... for now*

**Author's Note:**

> I totally appreciate any comments, feedback, and kudos. Thank you for reading!


End file.
